Take me away
by AEonVicious
Summary: In the lives of nations a right turn can lead to friendship, a wrong one can lead to war.  And when one nation is attacked it doesn't take long for the others to point a finger at the most likely suspect.  Warnings: uh..pretty much everything. Yeah. Sorry
1. Negotiations

**FOREWORD**

/ SPRING CLEANING VERSION!

( For those of you who have read this before: Don't Panic. Basically all I did was correct some spelling errors, fill in plot holes and maybe add more detail to areas I thought needed it. There aren't any major - or even minor really - plot changes. )

Before you get into this story I strongly suggest you hear the song "Take Me Away." By Globus if at all possible. It's sort of how I got to envisioning the core of this stories plot in the first place.

(And if you YouTube it look for the Hetalia AMV using this song. It's kewl. ^.~ )

Oh, and this is your first, last and only warning against reading this fic. I suspect that many of you have a good enough head on your shoulders that if something really bugs you you'll take it like an adult and find something else more suited to your liking. There are literally _thousands_ of fics on this site so there's no excuse to act like mine is the only choice you have.

Appropriate warnings are listed in the story summary but just to be clear here they are again.

Warnings: Language, innuendo, nudity, violence, yaoi…

_Poland: Like, what? Seriously? Totally not what I was hoping for._

Shush, Poland. I don't believe it either.

…references to torture, insanity, and other mature themes…

_Russia: KolKolKol_

_Poland: Like, BACK OFF! Totally~~_

…historical inaccuracies (probably), possible offensive material (maybe) and my shitty sense of humor (most definitely, my sincere apologies).

That said. Read on – _if_ you dare!

* * *

Negotiations

They drifted through the air, shimmering on the stray beams of winter sun that dared breach a near impenetrable ceiling of thick gray clouds above. Like frozen tears, those glistening snowflakes danced their way down to earth as clear blue eyes turned upward toward the heavens.

_Today…_

Lowering his head again the solemn nation shoved his hands deeper into his pockets – trying to bury his already half-covered face even deeper into the warm folds of a woolen scarf draped tightly over his shoulders. But it seemed to be a futile effort. No matter how much warmth he tried to wrap around himself Germany couldn't help but feel the bite of icy breath on his skin today.

From the darkened corners of his mind a voice chided him:

_C'mon, it's colder than the grave today – right?_

With heavy steps Ludwig trudged on through the heavy snow - the guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders more than sufficient to distract him from the hustle of his lively capital.

_Today. _

The people of Berlin continued moving, passing by a blond stranger standing out in the cold - not knowing that if for a moment they looked upon him they would see their very nation distilled into a living, breathing form.

Glancing up for just a moment he caught a brilliant ray of sun break through the stormy clouds above.

* * *

He; like, totally had a good reason to be nervous, Feliks thought.

Here he was, in an excellent mood at the start of the day. Somehow he'd managed to get his pony through customs and was glad he'd get the chance to walk it around the city. People would totally freak out when they saw it – it'd be awesome!

But there they were – like, _talking_.

Feliks _had_ tried to ignore the pair nearly blocking the doorway, absorbed as they were in their discussion that they'd failed to notice his approach. But then, Ludwig glanced to his right and caught sight of the Pole standing at the door. For only an instant those icy blue eyes of his seemed to widen a bit with shock before he silenced his companion. Ivan responded by halting mid-sentence to turn and smile with a strange warmness at the smaller nation.

"Здравствуйте Польша."

Feliks shivered slightly, hiding it well beneath an indifferent exterior. To the world he was the ever smiling, easy-going ray of sunshine. The one voted most likely to ditch a world meeting for a shopping spree and a candidate for easy going guy of the year.

But inside…he was a fucking wreck.

It had started when _their_ bosses had started talking - Ludwig's and Ivan's. Germany's government had started to get a bit leery of the whole 'let's depend on the E.U.'s success to carry us through' lot. Everyone, Ludwig included, wanted stability in case things on that end didn't go the way they planned. (Like sending _his_ money to countries that used theirs in a way he thought irresponsible…)

It was a reasonable enough desire, given that in the long lives of nations a whole hell of a lot didn't go as planned.

But for the love of God they'd turned to _Russia_!

Feliks had been a little stumped earlier that year when he saw Germany's newest boss as a guest at the yearly victory parade held in Moscow. Ivan made a big deal about winning the Second World War (Feliks didn't blame him – _He _still made a big deal about getting his house back, thank God.), and every year he threw a giant parade - pulling out all the stops. And since this was an important anniversary they ramped up the celebrations even more.

And yeah, Arthur and Francis and even *gasp* Alfred showed up with their own troops to march alongside Ivan's. (Like, Alfred totally freaked out – thinking he was gonna become 'One with Russia' or something…lame.)

At that time, Feliks guessed that inviting Ludwig's boss had been a typical Ivan-ish, "kolkol – I won kolkol." sort of thing. A little odd but not unheard of. Feliks knew well enough that Ivan could really rub it in when he beat you at something - like a kid.

But then in July this disastrous duo had announced this "New Security Committee." bright idea and Poland had secretly freaked out.

In Feliks' mind Ivan was still obsessed with making everyone 'one with him', even if he didn't say it out loud so much anymore.

So that left him; Poland, stuck right in between Germany and Russia as they decided to work together on their "Friendly 'security' talks that are; like, totally _not_ trying to scare the crap out of his entire country – _yeah, right_!" deal.

Blinking, Ludwig waved a hand in front of the smaller nations face. He coughed nervously, trying to elicit a response. Still nothing. Then he glanced left at Ivan who stared childishly at Feliks who in turn continued to stare blankly into space – eye occasionally twitching as if irritating thoughts were flitting around in his mind.

"Um…so…sorry?" Ludwig suggested, moving to the side.

Still nothing. Ivan made to poke him with his pipe and Ludwig quickly stopped him, sweating a bit nervously.

"Uh…Ivan, if possible could we go to another location and talk?"

After another quiet moment of curious observation Ivan grinned. "Of course, Germany. It seems our dear Poland is in a bit of shock at the moment. We shall leave him alone until his senses return, дa?"

Not just a little creeped out, the two moved to a far corner of the vast meeting-room to talk on the opposite side of the oblong table. Snapping to the present, Feliks noticed that the two nations that he could have sworn were talking to him a minute ago were gone.

"AH! What the?" Not wanting to lose sight of them Feliks scanned the room – his deep green eyes taking in every single nation in attendance. He could see Liechtenstein and her brother next to one another, and Austria a bit to the side.

_Jerk...another face I don't like. _Feliks snorted as he continued his search. _There! All the way back!_

Ivan and Ludwig had moved to the farthest reach of the conference room and seated themselves at the very edge of the great oblong table to continue their conversation far from prying ears. Shoving his hands nervously in his pockets, Feliks made his way toward the buffet table in a bid to put as much space between himself and the two as far as nation-ly possible.

Taking a forcibly relaxed stance the young man angled himself so he could watch the two nations chat it up across the room – taking advantage of the large tinted windows in the conference room to secretly watch their reflections. As he silently watched them he picked out a few pieces of fruit from the buffet table with a smile. The strawberries looked totally good.

"I am not happy about this." Francis spoke quite suddenly, nearly causing Feliks to waste a perfectly good apple in fright. Recovering his nerves the nation flipped his hair before staring at the Frenchman.

"What? You get into a fight with Britain over you grabbing his ass? Happens all the time right? He'll cool down soon enough."

"The Russian and the German. I don't like them getting so…acquainted."

Slowing the rate at which he was snatching food off the table Feliks felt the knot in his stomach re-tighten and the appetite that had been so good a moment ago vanished abruptly. Setting the small plate on the table he regarded the Frenchman across from him who smoothed his (obviously expensive) suit.

"So…it's like, not just me then?" Feliks clarified.

"Non." Was the firm response.

With a soft sigh he gazed back at the reflection in the mirror, seeing his own haggard face just outside the vision of Ludwig and Ivan laughing back and forth.

The sight of them so friendly was intolerable.

_Those guys..._

* * *

"_Ivan! Like, thank God you're here! Germany totally busted in here and –"_

"Привет! _Germany!" With a casual look the frigid nation regarded the man looking pleadingly at him from the floor. The fact that Feliks had obviously been beaten by the black clad man behind him did nothing to change the callous expression on Ivan's face. Instead the Russian faked a warm smile. _

"_Has dear Poland come to his senses yet?"_

"_Nein."_

_Watching those cold violet eyes narrow Feliks felt a true sense of dread, flinching as Ivan stepped every closer..._

"_Pity."_

* * *

"Monsieur Feliks?"

Jumping a little, the blond forced a shaky smile. "Like, yeah?"

Face scrunched in concern Francis glanced at Felik's hand and following his gaze Feliks could see the knuckles bled of all color with a thin rivulet of blood dripping to the floor from where his prettily painted nails had bit into his own flesh.

After absently grabbing a napkin Feliks mumbled what could have been an apology and excused himself, winding his way through the growing crowd and back out of the conference-room doors.

Blue eyes sliding back to the pair across the table Francis gave a slight, "tch!" toward the two before sighing heavily, a sad look coming over his face. "My heart truly aches for that boy…"

A moment or so later he saw Lithuania staring around, as if looking for someone. Not finding them he dejectedly took his seat.

* * *

Outside Feliks felt the bite of cold winter air on his face and the tug of it in his hair as it whipped around him and felt like he could finally breathe for the first time since he'd walked into that room.

From the grand staircase of the hotel he took in the sights and smells and sounds of the city and almost felt sick.

_I __**hate**__ coming here...this isn't MY place, where I should be is home - all nice and curled up on my totally rad couch and eating soup and like laughing at everyone who has to go out in the cold like I am RIGHT NOW!_

_No...I'm here. I'm here in the house of that...that..._

He shook slightly. A passerby would have mistaken if for a chill as long as they didn't look into his haunted eyes. Regaining his resolve with a glance back at the building Feliks snorted.

"Fine. I'll, like, just totally spend my time with my pony then! Seriously, these meetings are like, totally boring anyway!"

* * *

"Italy!"

The country turned with a happy smile on his otherwise vacant face.

Arthur's heavily browed eye twitched. With a soft cough he pointed to the source of the meetings disturbance and faked a cheery voice. "Bring enough for the rest of the class?" He asked, feigning civility.

Feliciano smiled broadly with a nod - looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he offered a large bowl of carefully prepared and wrapped pasta. "Actually England, I – "

"What the hell is this? A buffet?" Vash yelled from his seat - briefly pounding the table as Lily simply sighed beside him with her hands clutching her deep blue dress. Why couldn't she have a calm brother; like maybe Mr. Austria? Shaking the thought away she forced a smile. He was her brother and she truly did love him…but sometimes…

Vash continued his tirade. "Jeez, can we get on with this? Just start the meeting – FRANCE?"

With a growl Vash turned his attention to his fellow nation who had rather rapidly appeared beside the Italian, helping himself to a plate of pasta and exchanging the pleasantries of the day. With an elegant sigh and a flip of the hair Francis smiled, winking at the fuming nation across from him.

"Now, there's no sense arguing on an empty stomach."

With a disgruntled (and very loud) groan Arthur fumed, sitting back in his chair with his head in his hands – irritable fingers tousling his hair. He managed to look up just in time to see Greece stretch lazily before going back into a deep slumber – at which Russia gave one of the least creepy smiles the nation had dug up in quite a while.

"Jeez…I can't even bring the meeting to order today." The Englishman lamented. With a glance to his right he sat up, looking at the unusually reserved Ludwig.

"Hey." Arthur demanded. "Isn't it that normally _you're_ the one who snaps everyone out of it? Help me out here a bit, would you?"

Ludwig started, jumping slightly as if lost in his own mind.

In reality he'd been thinking about the current situation with Russia. And just as importantly, how that affected his relationship with his distrustful neighbor to the east. It was no secret among nations that the two's relationship was on thin ice at times - and that while the politics of the two nations were becoming a little more relaxed and trustful with each passing year that the personifications of those nations hadn't spoken more than a word or two to each other in several decades.

And the look on Felik's face upon seeing Ivan and himself in such deep conversation - Ludwig knew it must not have looked comforting in the least.

Now however; having been snapped back to the present he realized that the situation in the boardroom was a bit out of control and taking note of the room he gave a weak affirmation. But when his mouth opened a second time nothing emerged - his silence drowned out by the rowdy crowd around him. Ludwig pushed back his chair, standing up with an apologetic look in Arthur's general direction.

"I'm sorry but can you take care of this today England?"

"W-wait!" Arthur stammered, formidable brows scrunched. "I just asked _you_ because _I_ couldn't!"

His protests fell dismally against the door as Ludwig left, and Arthur could only resign himself to a dismal fate of conducting the rapidly disintegrating meeting himself.

_And exactly how_….He wondered.

There was a small cough behind him. And he leaned back to see who it was only to be confronted by strangely cold violet eyes. He froze, shivers trailing up and down his spine as Russia smiled back.

_Bloody hell…_

* * *

Once again embraced by the cold wind Ludwig made his way across the snow strewn courtyard that sat in front of the conference building, moving purposefully toward a set of wide stairs that curled their way up the side of the building adjacent to the one he had just exited. There was a garden on that lonely roof – no doubt encased in ice at this time of year – and that's where he'd be. Maybe the cold air could cool his worn nerves.

_I don't skip out on meetings that often, and I wouldn't be the first one..._

Each step seemed to sap a wealth of energy from his body. And the steps seemed stretch themselves infinitely up, so much so he wondered if a stairway to heaven were possible – and if it were was it possible to be reunited with those he had lost.

He'd been doing _so well_ today too. In the beginning it had been just like any other day. Speaking with Russia about their mutual interests had succeeded in completely wiping the date from his mind. Surprising; seeing as before they had started negotiations the northern nation would have terrified him just as well as anyone else.

Ludwig still wasn't too keen on getting extremely close to Ivan. That could be a costly mistake and he'd made far too many of those in his recent history to let any more go unchecked.

And as a nation, he of course had a lot of regrets that stuck with him – but this one stung just a bit more. It wasn't so much what had happened to him – he was strong and confident he could come through anything with enough perseverance - but what had happened to someone close to him on this day so many years ago.

But seeing Feliks face... Something about seeing his face - whether happy or sad brought up a wealth of emotions that the proud German would much rather stay buried for the rest of time.

There was a flood of remorse and a wealth of shame tinged through with bitterness and maybe just a hint of fear - but not a fear of that nation to the east, but a fear of _himself_.

In short, Feliks was the mass sum of everything that he had done wrong and all the wrongs he had done. Every minute scar that most eyes glanced over without a second thought stood out glaringly to Ludwig for the simple reason that he had been the one to put them there in the first place.

And then there was the low current of anger, the culmination of all those negative feelings. What exactly Ludwig was angry at however; was a mystery to him as well.

Crunching snow below made him turn for only a second as a form streaked past, racing headlong through the thinning crowd and toward the conference building. In his haste the sprinter slid in the snow, each time scrambling to his feet and lunging recklessly ahead.

Curious, Ludwig squinted.

He recognized that form.

* * *

"France~~ Are you okay?" Italy fretted, patting the man doubled over beside him on the back worriedly. Francis only groaned uncomfortably in a way that was maybe a bit to sultry for such a public place. In the background Canada sighed.

"That's why you shouldn't eat strange things Papa. Isn't that right, Kumaji?"

The young man really did feel a bit sorry for the man who'd helped raise him – but if he helped him then he wouldn't learn. The bear paused in nibbling on Matthews sleeve long enough to look up. "Who?"

The nation gave a disheartened groan. "Canada..."

On his end of the table Arthur stood, not bothering one bit to mask his triumphant grin. Even if the meeting was pretty much being held up by it Arthur wouldn't miss this for the world. _Finally_ France got what was coming to him.

"Upset stomach? Imagine that! The gourmet rendered helpless over a stomachache. Maybe if you didn't add vile things into your diet all the time you could handle a bit of 'normal' fare."

Francis snorted, a smirk momentarily crossing his face. "Perhaps if was those eyebrows of yours, you could lose your appetite just looking at them."

"WHAT?" Arthur roared.

Alfred guffawed. "They **are** pretty heinous!"

Rounding on him, the island nation pinched both of his estranged relatives grinning cheeks and pulled. "And since when do use such large words you bloody git!"

With a deafening slam the door flew open so hard it banged against the wall behind it, the resounding noise echoing in the large chamber.

At the entrance Feliks stood gasping, a hand on his chest as if he was in pain. At a casual glance his clothing merely looked rumbled, but in fact it was that his sweater seemed suddenly too large for his slight frame.

"It's gone!" He blurted out weakly.

The other nations stared in shock, excepting Francis who rested with his head on the table, allowing the cooling surface to calm him as much as possible while Feliciano continued to guiltily rub his back.

"What's gone?" Alfred asked as he rose to assume the role of hero as only he could - cheeks still a little red from their pinching. Feliks bolted into the room, now upon closer inspection appearing rather bloodied and bruised as he raced toward the table, and slammed his hands down on the hardwood. "IT'S LIKE, TOTALLY GONE!"

"Poland! What happened?" Toris yelled, running to his oldest friend's aid. The injured nation winced at the slight touch but didn't draw away, instead holding onto Toris' hands as if they were a life line. "It was heinous Liet – I got, like, totally jumped!"

Across his beige and pink sweater were wide stretches of slashed fabric, each blooming with a deep red. Toris could barely control his own tears at the sight of fresh bruises beginning to turn their sickly colors before his eyes - sprouting up across Feliks head and neck.

Gasping, Feliks flopped back into the chair that was hurriedly provided for him. It seemed to float out of nowhere with only a soft, "Maple!"

"It was….*huff*…like….like….*huff*….totally…."

Arthur came around the corner, offering the battered nation a glass of water – not more than a little to stop Feliks grating grammar but mostly to help in any way possible – which he gulped down, finishing with a grateful groan.

"Someone jumped me out in the street! Like, I didn't even see 'em coming. I was just, like, walking my pony and all-"

There was a strange glance exchanged between Arthur and Francis.

"-Totally caught me off guard. I, like, tried to run and all – but I couldn't get away!"

Exhausted, he put his face in his hands, pale blond hair falling forward over him like a curtain. "I was just, like, walking! That monster took it man!"

The rest of the assembled nations stood in silence.

Someone took Poland's pony…

As Feliks sat trying to compose himself, a shell of a nation just a little bit away started to gurgle.

"Merde...I feel like shit too…." With a dull _thunk _the other sick nations head hit the table.

Now suddenly confronted with two incapacitated nations the impromptu meeting leader's mind raced.

_Aw bloody hell! Just perfect! That damn Germany's run off and left me here alone just as all this happens!"_

Reaching out, Arthur steadied the injured country. "C'mon, we need to get you to a doctor."

A low mumble reached his lips and he leaned in closer.

"No good…It's totally heinous but…like…it's gone…I can't feel it anymore."

"What?" Alfred asked, now straining his ears to hear.

"**I JUST, LIKE, SAID IT'S GONE!"** Feliks screamed, deafening the adjoining nations.

"What is?" Arthur growled, rubbing his ear.

"Like, Silesia and all – among other things! Like, half my land!"

There was a sudden stirring in the room. A few faces went pale as the realization that this whole discussion wasn't so much about a pony-napping as it was about an international incident. Sinking back into the chair, the exhausted nation sighed weakly. "Like…this totally bites. I don't even have the energy to yell anymore."

His closest friend only nodded, draping one of Feliks' arms over his shoulders. "Right…we need to get you taken care of."

"So exciting, дa?"

For a moment the room paused to look at Ivan, who suddenly seemed in an unusually pleasant mood. Walking toward the far end of the room where most of the nations were gathered he smiled, in the process causing many others to disperse quickly.

"If you are not feeling well, you may recover at my home if you wish." Ivan offered, an almost sing-song tone to his voice.

"Like hell, man. I'm not falling for that!" Feliks shot back, jumping to his feet only to lean heavily on Toris who cast a worried glance at the personification of Russia suddenly moving in too close for comfort. He could feel Feliks tense in his arms with each nearing step – like a skittish creature not sure if it wanted to fight or bolt. Toris growled under his breath, completely sympathizing. So swallowing his fear Toris rose up, his gaze alone amazingly enough to halt Ivan's advance momentarily.

"I-I've got him. So he'll b-be just fine, okay!" The Lithuanians' forest green eyes flashed warningly – ready to defend the person in his arms.

"Liet…" Feliks wondered softly, seeing his friend's sudden steely resolve.

There was just the briefest of pauses before a wide grin graced Russia's face.

"That's fine then. Good to see Польша is in _caring_ hands." Ivan replied cheerily, a malevolent glint in his eyes. "I would hate to see any harm come to a fellow nation."

_Bullshit!_ The two seemed to think in unison – knowing far too much about Ivan's notion of 'kindness' to be fooled.

With a sudden pondering look Ivan sighed. "Come to think of it, I'll be rather busy soon – someone to help with things around my house would be nice..."

Childish smile still on his face Ivan started to walk past them, slowing just barely as he came even with them.

"Perhaps I'll invite someone over?"

The two froze, not daring to move an inch as he passed.

With that cryptic last word the Russian walked away, excusing himself.

Wiping away a bit of sweat from his substantial brows, their substitute 'host' rose up as well.

"We should recess the meeting then, we have a –"

He glanced at France drooling on the table.

_For the love of…he's ruining the finish!_

"Er...Two nations who need assistance. So let's just take care of them for now."

With a heavy thud Feliks sank back into his chair, the tension finally draining away. "I can't believe it…" He groaned as the other nations filed out of the room around them. "And that's not, like, even the worst of it."  
Arthur, Alfred, Toris, and Feliciano perked up, being the last ones in the room besides an unconscious Francis. Now Feliks found himself under the scrutiny of four pairs of eyes.

"Worst part?" Feliciano wondered, still rubbing Francis' shoulders in an almost motherly manner.

"Yeah…." Feliks whispered ominously – the mood of the room darkening with a spooky presence, as if ghosts were floating in the air.

Alfred looked around, paranoid.

Somewhere a crow cawed and Feliciano yelped.

Feliks continued, looking a bit scary himself. "Like…everyone there…was speaking _GERMAN_!"

There was a dramatic lightning crash. Arthur flinched. "Wa- but it's sunny outside!" He yelled incredulously.

"UWAAAAHH!" Cried Feliciano, shaking his head as soppy tears streamed out.

Deciding things were getting too out of hand the island nation cleared his throat, thick brows knitted together in irritation.

"Now hold on! Lets' not get ahead of ourselves here…"

_That's right,_ He reasoned in his mind. _I don't want anyone saying something stupid and causing an international incident. Like pointing fingers and saying things like - _

"**GERMANY YOU DASTARDLY FIEND!" **

Alfred pointed his finger behind the group toward the door.

"**You - " **– he paused for effect.** "TOOK POLANDS VITAL REGIONS!"**

"**Don't, like, say it like that!"** Feliks bawled, flopping emotionally onto Toris' shoulder.

_BLOODY IDIOT!_ Arthur's mind snapped.

"Germany!" The young Italian wailed distraughtly. "It's not true!"

And in the midst of all this, standing by the door just about to ask what was going on was Ludwig. For a moment his mouth formed silent words as his brain struggled to process what had just been laid before him.

He had seen Feliks running back into the hotel and figured that something might be wrong, so he decided to leave the rooftop and see what the matter was. On the way in he had passed Ivan and decided to get the story from him.

But Ivan had only given him a strangely intense look - as if checking him over - before walking off, only yelling back; "It seems Польша is having a bad day!"

Of course, that wasn't a lot to go on so he'd entered the conference room and found himself confronted with the injured Pole and a crowd of other nations now looking at him with either expressions of shock ( Arthur, Feliciano ) or anger ( mostly Toris ).  
As his mind came up to speed a sudden angry blush began to flood his face. Alfred was still pointing, waiting for an answer (as the hero always does) and fortunately for his short attention span he didn't wait long…

* * *

"And just exactly…what did that mean?" The sulky American pouted over a cup of hot coffee while Arthur cradled his tea.

"Please…don't ask."

"It sounded like-"

"Don't repeat it!" The older nation exclaimed, ending with an exasperated groan. "Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut for once?"

"Hey!" Alfred grumbled. "Didn't Poland say that the people in the invaded area started speaking German all of a sudden? That means it's him, right?"

"No." Arthur responded, not all too sure of his own answer. "It just means someone who _speak_s German took over Silesia. Not that it _was_ Germany. There are several nations who speak the language-it could have been any one of them"

Arthur waved the hasty conclusion away and with a sigh looked out at the bustling Berlin crowd. It was almost noon now; the meeting would have ended about that time anyway...

"Besides…that wasn't the reaction of a guilty man." He continued after a thoughtful sip of his noon drink.

"Pfft." Alfred responded. "That yelling was totally a sign of guilt."

"So if he had been calm it would mean he was innocent." Arthur mused.

"Heck no!" His younger companion piped up. "That's even _more_ suspicious."  
Arthur's eye twitched as he grabbed the top of Alfred's head. "Look you idiot are you intentionally trying to start the Third World War? Learn to read the atmosphere you twit!"

"I would if I could find the damn thing!" Alfred yelled back, smoothing his hair angrily. "Why not just lend me the friggin' book, Iggy?"

"Bloody hell…" Arthur once again found his face in his hands. It had been a god-awful day and it wasn't near over.

With a concerned gaze at his tea the older nation sighed.

"America?"

"Yeah?" His younger cohort chirped.

"Do you really even know the damage you cause?"

Alfred paused from snacking on a delicious melt-in-your-mouth chocolate cookie to look at Arthur.

"What the heck are you talking about?" He muttered, crumbs falling on his jacket. He brushed them and a healthy amount of snow away.

"You know – " Arthur began to yell before suddenly lowering his voice, loathe to attract any more unwanted attention. "You were there, idiot, when we found Poland after The War."

America's eyes went wide as he remembered. "Yeah…that was…"  
Sitting up, Arthur stirred his tea with an anxious energy. "We've had…wars…in our history that are a sore spot between us." He began, referencing the one thing they never directly talked about. He saw recognition in Americas pained blue eyes but continued.

"I can't even begin to imagine the rift between Germany and Poland after…that."

For a while they sat in silence, listening the bustling of the world around them.

Alfred looked up at the clouded sky.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

DO OVER!

Its spring cleaning for my FF account! I try to make it a point to go back to my older fics and correct any spelling errors, fill in any extra info I think might be interesting and generally spruce them up. Don't worry, the basic plot of my stories won't change but I might reword sentences or add in little snippets of info to give them more depth and complexity.

(Most of this stuff is written when I'm dead tired you know. ^.^ )

On a side note, I really didn't expect it to get so dark…jeez…I kinda wanted it light at first at least.

_Poland: Like seriously, you're totally bumming everyone out_.

Hush. I said I didn't mean it.

_Russia: Do not fret; I honestly enjoyed my time teasing little Польша! I can continue to do so next chapter, дa?_

_Poland: Like, it's POLAND! Gawd, seriously..._

Per the usual, I own jack squat.

Actually, I don't own him…he ran away… .

Copyrights held by the guys in suits…and our dear Himaruya-san

Fan work only, I take no remuneration. Please buy the videos when they're released by Funimation.

Poland: Gawd…lame…

_Sniff_. I thought it was good…


	2. Snow

"F-F-F-France?"

The nation of lovers looked over from his plush red couch, turning his head gracefully toward the young man who stood unusually quiet by the door.

_Oh, just little Italy…_

Francis sighed with a hint of disappointment and sat up, smoothing back his hair as his uninvited (but still very welcome) guest moved forward. Feliciano sniffed and shuffled, dancing from side to side as if he wanted to go but felt he needed to stay.

Francis frowned softly. "What is it? You look upset."

Now at the sound of the Frenchman's voice the sniffling boy seemed to be on the verge of tears - his golden-brown eyes watering in a way that caused Francis to really take notice of the nation's distressed state.

"Big brother FRANCE!"

"AHH-OOF!"

Not having time to dodge before a sobbing Feliciano threw himself headlong into him – Francis ended up with even worse stomachache than he'd had before. Grabbing Feliciano by the shoulders he gently moved the boy back, trying to catch his breath again after having it knocked out of his chest.

"AHHH~ Italia...while I appreciate your enthusiasm...please."

"I'm so sorry!" The younger nation wailed clutching onto Francis desperately as tears streamed down his cheeks. He was of course nearly oblivious to the fact that he'd winded his gracious, but now mildly irritated, host. "My pasta – my _pasta_ made you sick!"

After a second of confused silence France put a comforting hand on Italy's head, laughing heartily before turning a kind smile to the youth. "Is that what this is about? Please, do not worry yourself, little Italy."

"Ve?" Feliciano sniffled, a thin trail of snot threatening to run from his nose. "But…but…I made your stomach hurt…"

France petted his hair. "Non. You may not be…" The Frenchman tried to find the right word. "many things."

Close enough.

"But you are an excellent chef – and do not think otherwise for even a moment!" For a moment he smiled with reassuring warmth that brightened Feliciano's heart. But then with a soft laugh his face seemed to darken by just a fraction. "Please, do not cry. It was not your delicious meal that caused me to fall ill."

"Really?"

"Truly."

Face breaking back into a wide smile, Feliciano hugged Francis once again. "I'm so glad that I didn't give you food-poisoning!"

"I am certainly happy as well." Francis replied honestly. He could do without that...

"Oh!" The Italian exclaimed. "I need to go tell Germany!" Jumping back the boy gave another grin before racing off, only stopping once to wave back at Francis. "Take care! I hope you get better, France!"

As he watched the energetic Italy leave the nation smiled a moment before putting a hand on his forehead, face growing serious. "To think he caused this illness…non. The fault of my current state is not due to him. Rather…"

Placing a hand on his agitated stomach he grimaced. "Qui vole un oeuf vole un boeuf."

* * *

Toris stared at the ceiling.

_I can't believe all of this is happening…why __**Poland **__of all nations? I mean...it would be really bad for this to happen to any country and I wouldn't wish it on anyone...well...almost. But really, he's seen more than his fair share of trouble - so why does someone want to go and make life even harder for him? Is that their goal? Or just an unintended side effect..._

Filled with regret and sympathy for his friend, Toris couldn't help but try to find an answer to this riddle he was stuck with. Someone had attacked Feliks– and not just anyone but someone at least on par with a nation.

And the fact that nations themselves were up for attack was just as disturbing. There was no way it could be a simple attempt at mugging - Feliks was definitely far beyond the level of the average human being and even outnumbered forty to one he would never lose to mortals. That was one of the perks of being a nation personified.

_Although there are a lot of downsides as well._ Toris mused bitterly.

So someone as strong as a nation. Someone who knew Feliks was a nation? Was that even possible? Information like that was classified - one would have to be at the highest level of government to know that.

_So a security breach maybe? I'll bring it up to him_.

Feliks may be fickle, and sometimes even downright spacey – but he was above all a fighter. He had a strength that few who didn't know him realized and Toris just couldn't bring himself to believe that Poland had lost so much territory so quickly without there being another factor involved – something he didn't see.

"LIET!" He heard the sudden yell and sat up on the hotel couch (the one in Feliks' room), looking to the door as his friend entered. The two stared at each other for a long, tense moment - the sound of Feliks' heaving breath the only sound in the room for at least a minute before he spoke.

"I FOUND MY PONY!"

Toris just about fell off of the couch. "You scared the daylights out of me, Feliks!" He yelled, climbing from his temporary bed. The animal in question 'clopped' up to his cooing owner who patted him lovingly on the head, which in turn caused the horse to make a really weird (almost unnatural) whinny that kind of freaked Toris out.

Not that he'd say that to Feliks though...never. And so Feliks promptly proceeded to ignore him, instead cooing softly to his recovered steed.

"I'm so, like, totally stoked!"

With a resigned sigh Toris smiled. "I'm glad to hear you're feeling better."

With a final loving pat the blond sent his pony on it's way, watching it trot easily across the hotel rooms 'living room' and back into it's own bedroom. "Yeah, like, I'm surprised too." Once his pet was out of sight the youth moved across the room to take a seat on the now vacant couch and after leaning back into the cushions he gave a contented sigh.

"I was, like, totally expecting to be in pain right now. I'm so glad I'm not."

"Feliks?" Toris questioned, seeing his friends look of slight confusion. Instead of answering right away Feliks patted the couch beside him, inviting Toris to take a seat next to him and once the brunette was seated he began talking again.

"You know…with, like, a whole bunch of my land gone I was afraid I'd feel them, my people, suffering. Something's..." At this he paused, a scowl crossing his gentle features. "I don't know why...but something's weird. Like, ever since I got jumped I just haven't..._connected_ the way I did before with my land. I can still sort of feel the stuff they took but it's really fuzzy, like it's not totally with me anymore. Without knowing what's going on in my own house I can't fully protect them - so I'm totally leaning on the military at this point. So I was worried."

Then he stretched. "But, it's like, the strangest thing. Suddenly I feel, like, a lot of my people coming back to the normal parts – it's getting seriously crowded!"

"You feel them coming back?" Toris took a seat next to his friend, curious. "What does it mean?"

Feliks shrugged, seeming at a loss himself. "I'm guessing whoever took my land, like, opened up the border or gave them a free pass or something. Whatever's happening, they're like, not trying to take everyone out. They're coming here – to me." At this he gave a gentler, more relieved smile; green eyes shining. "They're not hurt."

Toris watched, still not really understanding. Feliks; noticing, jumped up to look him in the face with wide, excited eyes.

"They're not hurt, Toris! They're all fine! I was, like, totally thinking these assholes might hurt my people or something but they're all just coming back over to what land I've got left!" He sat forward; making sure Toris' eyes met his.

Then the nation giggled, flopping onto his back with his head in Toris' lap.

"Hey! You can't lie there!" Toris protested with a furious blush, giving up as his friend settled in with a roll of his green eyes at the Lithuanians feeble attempt to stop him from doing what he wanted. After a moment Feliks' face became serious once more.

"I was, like totally scared."

Toris gazed down through forest green eyes, taking in the sight of his friend who had closed his own emerald ones as if he intended to go to sleep. Slowly he opened them again.

"Last time…I was in so much pain. It hurt to move, to breathe. But no, I had to keep working because I didn't have any choice. I tried so hard to fight back, Liet."

Placing a gentle hand on his friends' forehead Toris stifled his own tears. "It's alright. Those days are gone…"

"Yeah…"

"So what now?"

Feliks sighed. "Right now, I think we're, like, gonna get as many people back here as possible. Then we'll see about totally kicking these bastards ass!"

After stating his opinion so boldly the young man gave an incorrigible grin. "Whoever they are, I'll, like, totally make Warsaw their capital!"

Toris gave a glad smile. "No doubt, huh?"

"Nope!"

* * *

_Mysterious Army Seizes Land – World News – Feb - -._

_4:00 P.M._

_Early this afternoon, an unidentified army swept into the nation of Poland - soldiers forcefully taking a sizable chunk of land amid a fierce resistance by Polish troops. A cease fire was negotiated in exchange for free passage of Polish citizens into what lands are still under Polish control. At the time of this printing top government officials have yet to release a formal announcement but a government aide who wished to remain anonymous has said that hundreds if not thousands of citizens are crossing over into Polish secured lands. He also stated that initial reports are that despite continuing scuffles on the newly established border that civilian casualties are surprisingly low._

_"It's really something like a miracle with all this fighting."_

_He declined comment on how the Polish government will react to this direct challenge, stating only that debate on the subject is still 'ongoing'._

* * *

Germany sneezed, and then sniffled a bit miserably.

After a moment of his frozen fingers fumbling with the key in the lock the tired nation made his way into the welcome warmth of his own home. The smell of warm bread filled the entire house - Roderick must have been in today despite the weather. His cousin didn't stop by often, but today was one of those special days that he decided to come over with something good to eat, talk pleasantly with Gilbert for a little while, eventually get annoyed with him and make and excuse to leave.

It usually took about a half hour. Gilbert didn't seem to take the short visits personally - knowing full well how long a well made Brötchen could take to make and that Roderick being who he was made no effort to shortcut the process.

It was an aristocratic way of expressing sympathy, of showing he cared. And apparently Gilbert understood and accepted it. Not that he ended up relentlessly teasing Roderick any less.

Slowly, Ludwig peeled away his heavy winter coat and unwound the cream wool scarf from his neck, taking a moment to relax. It had been a trying day. But he could hear from the chatter of his TV running in the background that the day was still far from over. As he walked to the living-room he had expected his brother to be curled up on the couch – no doubt eating the last bit of food they had. But the couch was empty and the TV blared to a vacant audience.

With an irritated sigh Ludwig only took a moment to scan the headlines before clicking the set off.

_Gilbert…how many times? Never mind._

With the news off he walked to the kitchen, now feeling a bit nervous. Normally on this day - the anniversary of Prussia's dissolution - he'd come home to find the beer gone, the wurst eaten and his brother passed out in some inconceivable position in the most unlikely part of the house. But a quick glance allayed his fears – there was no empty carton of beer on the table, no note to inform him to get more. On top of that, Ludwig had the good fortune to remember he'd made extra food before leaving for the meeting in anticipation of his elder brother's antics – there should be some left.

Spirits lifting he opened the fridge to find an empty carton, missing wurst, and a note.

_Hey West. Sorry_.

The nation shut the door, rubbing his head before he turned to the stairs.

"Gilbert!" Ludwig shouted as he climbed to the second level, stopping halfway up the staircase to grab a pair of jeans left lying on a step. He put it under his arm with a soft curse. Stopping at the first room to his right he knocked on the solid elm door, ready to yell at his inconsiderate brother –

The door creaked open.

Staring at the oddity, Ludwig waited for Gilbert to scold him for barging in unannounced.

_Hey! You don't come into my totally awesome room till I say, got it?_

Silence.

After a moment of hesitation the blond pushed at the door, opening it a little further and when no one yelled at him for trespassing he guessed that his brother wasn't in so he took a few nervous strides.

A distinct clash of modern and historical, the time-mixed bedroom was an odd sight. On the three hundred year old dresser was a digital alarm clock in the shape of a yellow bird - now silent until the next preset alarm time arrived. A stained glass window flooded the room with diffused red and white light - matching the color scheme of a very old and somewhat tattered flag that hung above Gilbert's bed.

Despite its eccentricity the room was indeed empty except for a very strange sight.

Set with great care in the middle of a century old four poster bed with modern tribal print sheets in silver and grey was a little gold gilded cage.

Inside was Gil-bird.

For a moment, Ludwig stared at the golden cage and the bird inside – which now noticing it wasn't alone, had started to chirp angrily, in its own way demanding to be let out.

_If Gil-bird's here…_

Curious, Germany moved to the large poster bed and carefully flipped open the door. Gil-bird – shooting out at the speed of light – smacked into his forehead.

"Ach! Ah…." Looking around he tried to find the small golden fluff ball before a slightly ticklish feeling on his head gained his attention. Glancing at a mirror he could see that Gil-bird had nestled into his hair – almost blending in with the blond locks. "Uh…Gil-bird? Where's _Gilbert_?"

He wondered for a minute if the little creature had understood him as the small bird made no noise. It seemed unusually quiet…

With quick steps Ludwig made his way through the rest of the house he shared with his (annoying) brother. He searched every closet, every room – blue eyes looking for that familiar form. And when the last empty room had been checked he felt a flush of concern.

Really, in the last week especially, Gilbert hadn't been looking so good come to think of it...

Ludwig had to admit that since he'd become an ex-nation the former kingdom of Prussia's health had been in decline. At first it had been hardly noticeable. For years he had retained his unusual strength and was just as sly as ever.

But it had started to show recently. A stumble here or there. And the slowing of his run time when he and Ludwig had still exercised together - something they'd stopped doing months ago at Gilbert's insistence. Then there was the almost endless lethargy, as if he just didn't want to do anything.

Then Gilbert had his first coughing fit nearly three weeks ago, the deep rasping rattle in his lungs forcing Ludwig to practically order him to stay in the house until the warmth of spring had returned.

_There's something he won't tell me, something he's hiding. Something…_

Racing downstairs Ludwig grabbed his coat, scarf and gloves before remembering the bird in his hair. Gil-bird fluffed himself for maximum warmth and gave a hopeful, "Piyo?" as Ludwig put his hand on the door.

_Good, he's up for finding his reckless partner in crime. _Ludwig noted.

Opening the door to the freezing cold once again the two set out into the approaching night.

* * *

It was cold.

How the hell had he gotten all the way out here again?

Oh yeah, he'd gotten drunk and decided he was sick of staying at home.

Not his home, Germany's.

He loved his brother, but damn Gilbert needed something of his own. Something to hold onto - something to own. But Berlin wasn't a part of him any more. Neither was Königsberg or many of the other almost countless towns and cities big and small that had once been a part of him.

No. _Been_ him. As much as _he'd _been _them_. There was no separating a nation from its people, its land. You did that and well...it wasn't really a nation anymore was it?

"I wonder how Gil-bird's doing?" Gilbert muttered weakly from the snow, slowly realizing his vision was starting to blur. Even without it he knew he was alone. There was no-one for miles at least. He was quite by design out in the middle of fucking nowhere. And surely his bro would have found the little birdie by now in his gilded cage. They might even be looking for him but unless they had a seat on the next train north they'd never find him.

He'd gotten so weak since his fall from nation-hood.

Look at him, mighty Prussia out freezing in the snow because his body couldn't take the cold anymore. Sure, that was part of why he'd made Gil-bird stay behind. There was no way he was risking his feathered friend.

But DAMN. He thought he'd make it farther than this!

It was quiet in the woods were Gilbert was, hardly any sounds other than the soft – barely audible hush of snow falling and his own unsteady breath taking what little warmth was left in him away in little fluffy white wisps. Light was starting to fade from the sky, replacing the fiery reds and gold's of sunset with a new wave of darkened clouds – heavy and gray but as cold as he was, Prussia made no attempt to move. This, in a roundabout way, had been the entire purpose of running away.

If you'd asked him ages ago, he would have never guessed that this would be how it ended - dying cold and alone in some God-forsaken snow bank in POLISH territory.

Shit. It wasn't even his anymore was it? Was that why he couldn't feel the ground beneath him anymore? Was that why he was so numb?

In reality, there wasn't anywhere he could run where he wouldn't be found. Sooner or later he'd be discovered. Would it be Feliks who would figure it out first? Would there even be anything to discover come to think of it. What the hell actually happened when a nation died? After all, they never found even a trace of old Rome...

Suddenly Gilbert coughed, a gentle tickle in his throat triggering a new onslaught of violent hacking. He rolled over onto his side in the snow, trying to cover his mouth with a hand only to have the blood seep through anyway.

As the rattling died away he stared at the reddened snow.

This was why he'd run away.

Gilbert was an awesome actor, but even he had his limits.

He let his arm drop back into the snow, not bothering to move again.

It was getting darker, and he wondered if it was evening already.

But it was moving so fast…

There was a slight blurring as blackness overtook Gilberts vision.

* * *

He stared at the man in the snow.

It seemed like something out of an old drama - something that may have at one time been based on an old legend about some hero or another. But it was hard to tell which one of them was the star of this little adventure.

Standing in a thick snowdrift in the northern half of Poland the threadbare soldier looked down at the man in the snow with a strange feeling of familiarity, the kind one gets when they think they recognize someone despite never remembering seeing them before.

There was something about him. Maybe it was the tousled white hair or the strange uniform he wore – an old style in deep Prussian blue. In fact, the outfit looked vintage and most definitely came from somewhere else. Even if it was dyed such an unusual blue it was completely unacceptable to wear something like that in these lands - even to the extent of being punishable by law if caught.

What was it that made this man seem so...different? Obviously he was dying, but all people do that eventually. It could have been the heavy silver and black cross at his neck that was slightly worn through on the dark stain from constant wear or the bright crimson of fresh blood in the snow around him, completing a winter scene in black, white and red.

As other soldiers ran up to the spot Adler looked them over and each of them waited for a word from him in return. They were a ragtag bunch in makeshift uniforms but the light in their eyes spoke of hard-earned experience. These were men to trust in a fight. A band of battle hardened brothers so to speak.

One pointed to the man in the snow. "He going with us?"

For a moment Adler paused, amber eyes looking back over the prone form.

There was just something...

"Yeah. Get doc on the line and tell him we have a job for him." Handing his rifle to another soldier Adler knelt to the ground, the coldness radiating through his tall boots as he scooped the stranger into his arms.

He thought the man opened his eyes - deep orbs that were a faded vermillion - for a split second before they closed again.

With his burden, Adler turned around. "Let's get out of here."

"Sir!"

* * *

**Authors Note:**

"Qui vole un oeuf vole un boeuf.": Once a thief, always a thief. (Literally: He who steals an egg steals an ox.)

At least that's how I understand it. Could be wrong tho'.

France has been known to trick me like that...XD


	3. General

It had been an unpleasant few days to say the least.

Despite running out into the snow in a hurry to find his brother before nightfall his search had turned up nothing. Gilbert, it seemed, had disappeared from the face of the earth and while it wasn't unusual for his brother to vanish without a word, Ludwig couldn't help but feel nervous.

The news echoed in his mind and issued from the television in the background.

_What a disaster! All of this happening just as I'm trying to make a more stable foundation for my people!_

With a heavy sigh Ludwigs eyes gazed out of his bedroom window, watching snowflakes toss in the stiff wind.

_I at least hope that brother of mine is somewhere warm_.

And then he heard it, the angry yelling coming from the television.

_"-It's unbelievable! I lost everything!" _

_The voice over narrated - the voice lagging slightly behind the middle-aged woman's native words. _

_"My house that my father lived in is probably being looted by the wretched men! How can anyone stand for this? What is being done to help us?"_

A reporter's voice cut in as the scene changed to one of a stream of displaced citizens.

_"Their faces were varied - the ages across the board. But all held the same look of anger, sadness and a stubborn will to move foreword. Since the invasion began these same images have been circulated around the globe. So where is this attack coming from and who is to blame for the suffering these people have gone through - being forced from their homes, some leaving behind their only possessions while others wonder about loved ones who may still be in danger."_

Ludwig sighed, loosening his suit-tie.

_This isn't right. But who is behind it? Not even we nations have a clue. _

With a heavy feeling in his stomach the tired man gathered his sleepwear and headed for the shower.

_Some nations think they know...and until we have proof otherwise I'm suspect number one. _

That singular thought loosened the memories that had long been stored away - just out of sight.

The sound of the announcements on t.v. took a back seat to the harried thoughts racing in his mind as a wave of emotions crashed into him. He could only tell himself that it was to be expected - that no matter how bad the suspicion hurt everyone had a good reason to think he'd be after his neighbor. It wouldn't be the first time - and if you asked some nations he had to confront on a daily basis it wouldn't be the last.

He never missed it when someone moved just a little further away from him, though he was polite enough to pretend he didn't notice. Or when someone happened to bring up that war - Ludwig always noticed the glances that would inevitibly follow him as soon as people were reminded, scowls and accusing looks on their faces.

It never stopped, never ended.

_It didn't start with the war..._ a voice nagged from the depths of his mind.

_They've been calling you that for centuries already. Backwards. A land without history. Uncultured. Barb-_

Slamming the medicine cabinet shut he leaned on the sink, trying to calm down enough so that he would completely crush the next thing he touched. After a few deep breaths he finally moved. Hoping that the cold water would jar him to his senses he stepped into his shower and turned the faucet to full blast.

"PIIYOOO!"

"AAACH!"

The hairdryer humming, Gil-bird cooed as his feathers fluffed in the warm air. Ludwig stood wrapped in a bath-towel, trying not to let his wet hair drip on the nearly dried down

"Sorry...you kind of blended in there..."

Heaving a heavy groan Ludwig turned off the appliance and held the little yellow bird up for inspection.

Gil-bird chirped happily.

"Where is Gilbert? That insufferable brother of mine. If he's causing any trouble they'll be hell to pay when he comes home!"

The bird sighed.

* * *

_Panic in Europe as Ghost Army Invades Poland – World News – Feb - - _

_9: 00 A.M_

_The world remains in shock as fighting continues. Tuesday at around 3:00 p.m. it was confirmed that an unidentified army had launched a coordinated attack – an army that since the initial attack has taken over several hundred square miles of Poland's land in only a few days. Since then government resistance has been fierce. Refugees from the land affected have been safely transported away from combat zones; however, there are still several thousand Polish citizens who remain in the taken territory. _

_In light of the sudden, illegal occupation of Poland's northern territory, the U.N. has condemned the as of yet unidentified rebel group. _

"_These terrorists will not be tolerated." The President of the United States said in his speech addressing the issue earlier today. "I have informed the nation of Poland that they have the full support of our country."_

_Other nations have also jumped to Poland's aid. _

_In total, France, Spain, the U.K., Italy, and Germany have pledged their support thus far. Many other nations have mobilized to assist in providing basic necessities for refugees of the fighting that have been moved from their homes._

_Says the leader of the United Nations: "I believe this is an issue that must be addressed urgently…for the good of freedom, justice and the future safety of all nations…"_

"It's not all nations we're after."

Gilbert barely heard these words, his mind teetering on the edge of consciousness. As feeling returned to weighted limbs he could hear the strangest things.

People were hustling about, with phones ringing and the sound of massive volumes of paper being moved. But nearly drowning this out was the relatively low hum of a television and the soft sounds of life that indicated to Prussia that he wasn't alone in the room.

"Quit playing dead. I know you're awake."

Opening his eyes, Gilbert winced at the light. His bed was right by a window with the shades half-drawn. Observing the world from that spot, he soon found his was in a room – judging from the tree outside probably on the second floor.

There was only three items of furniture the speak of; the bed Gilbert awoke in, a small T.V. and it's stand, and a worn high backed stuffed chair on which a stranger sat, watching the news.

"How long have I been awake then?" The ex-nation asked the stranger in a hoarse voice, not believing for one moment he'd been found out. He was too awesome for that.

"Not long." Came the answer. "Maybe about a minute or so."

Well shit. The guy was good – he'd admit it.

"And how'd you know?"

"Your breathing." His strange host laughed, clicking off the television set and rising to his feet. Even from the bed Gilbert could tell that something stood out about this man.

He wasn't especially tall, or handsome.

No. It wasn't his face or his ratty sweater and overcoat. It was his eyes that held such a fierce sense of purpose that for a moment Gilbert wondered if just a glance would be enough to put someone under a spell.

But it wasn't a psychotic look.

Gilbert knew that one well enough that he'd know it anywhere and he'd had way too many unnecessary run-ins with those sorts of people…

The man bent over and grabbed a small footstool that had been sitting on the far side of the chair and with his new seat in hand he strode purposefully toward Prussia, finally coming to a stop a foot or two from the bed.

"I suppose," He spoke, sitting. "That you'd like to know exactly where the hell you are and who I'm supposed to be?"

"Ding. You're so intuitive."

The man gave Gilbert a look that the nation quickly recognized as '_smartass'_.

"My name is Adler." At this he paused. "You don't need to know more than that."

"Oh bullshit!" Gilbert yelled, sitting up quickly. His red eyes flashed with a deep and angry light. "Alright, you listen to me; punk." He started, making sure he had Adler's' full attention. "You've got three seconds to tell me what the hells going on before I beat some sense into you! Don't go thinking because you kidnapped me that –"

"Last time I checked." Adler interrupted, deep brown eyes taking on an ominous light of their own. "Rescuing a dying man in the forest didn't constitute as kidnapping. You know, most people would at least say thank you – thank goodness I had no expectations for you in the first place, kid."

For a moment the albino sat, his anger rising slowly. "What? KID? Listen to me you little shit, I'm a fucking nation-"

With a near physical jolt Gilbert stopped; eyes wide in shock as he realized what he'd just done. Looking to Adler he only felt that cold and heavy feeling in his stomach grow worse.

_He already suspected as much…which is why he pulled me out of the snow._

"Judging from the look on your face." Adler spoke softly, leaning in toward his captive. "I suspect you're telling the truth. Good. I'd hate to make a false I.D. and get myself into a world of shit over it. So. Which one are you?"

Gilbert looked away. He wasn't saying another freaking word.

"You're not sexy enough to be France." Adler mused dryly.

Gilbert ground his teeth.

_NO! Don't give in! He's just taunting you for a reaction! And I'm soo sexier than France!_

Then the general gave a soft laugh. "Besides, we already took what we needed from him."

There was an unmistakable tone of superiority in his voice that struck exactly the wrong nerve with Gilbert.

"Haven't we been through enough?" The youth snapped, the defiance returning full force to his crimson eyes. "Now there's some other nut-job taking over countries and causing trouble! What the hell? It's barely been any time at all and someone else wants to stir it up again?"

In a flash Gilbert was on his feet. Adler was just as fast, managing to steady the wobbling man as he lurched and causing the nation's anger to boil even more.

"What the fuck do you dicks want?" He hissed into Adler's ear.

The answer was so slow in coming that for a moment Gilbert wondered if they'd ever move from that spot. Then, he felt Adler turn his head.

"The question is: what do you wish for most of all?"

"Wh-what?"

With a push the man sent Gilbert sprawling back onto the bed. As he propped himself back up Gilbert couldn't miss the look of dismay in Adler's eyes.

"How is it…that a mere human can push a once proud nation such as you around? What has happened to the glorious nation we once looked to?"

Those words…stung more than Gilbert would ever admit to.

And all this ex-nation could do was stare up at this man he'd never met, who spoke as if he'd known him all their lives and feel the weight of all he'd lost come falling onto his shoulders again.

Adler took a step back and sat heavily on his stool again.

"I'm sorry if I've insulted or harmed you. As you can imagine, running an army takes a toll on ones mind and body."

Gilbert came back to the present, sitting up straight again. "So you're the one running this three-ring circus?"

"The one and only."

"Why?"

With a short laugh Adler looked up at him. "I just told you. What do you wish for most of all?"

Gilbert averted his eyes.

_I know what I want…but how the hell could I say it? After what I did I don't really deserve it, right?_

"Is that what you believe?"

Jumping back Gilbert pointed. "The hell? Now you're psychic too?"

Adler frowned. "Don't be stupid. It's just that…I know that look."

"That look?" Gilbert asked.

He watched as the generals face darkened with bitterness, his deep black locks almost obscuring his eyes.

"That wounded, kicked dog look. The same look that I see plaguing your former citizens whenever your name is mentioned. The look that I've seen on the face of your brother's people whenever the war is mentioned."

Adler took a deep breath, his eyes catching Gilbert's.

"It's a look that says, "I deserve to suffer." And I hate that." Lowering his gaze he continued. "It's been years since then. The older generation – most of them are no longer in this world. We've moved on into a new millennium with all of its promise for equality and peace. And yet the scar hasn't healed. It's gotten better, of course. But there's still this remorse, this regret."

"Of course there is!" Gilbert argued, his anger rising again. "Looks like you need to read up on your history –"

"I _know_ Your history."

Once again Prussia found himself looking away, embarrassment and shame rising in his mind.

"Stop it!" Adler snapped, catching the look.

From the corner of his eye, Prussia gazed back. "You. Do you really know what happened? Or do you _think_ you know? Do you have any idea how I feel about those times?"

"I realize what happened." Adler growled. "I just want you to stop looking so damn pathetic."

"AND HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO LOOK!" Gilbert finally roared.

_This man!_ His mind swirled with fury. How dare he even start this shit with _him_? What gave him the right?

"You think I should be happy? Ecstatic? NO! I'm fucking depressed, alright? How would you take the knowledge that millions of innocent people died because of your sorry ass, huh? I'm sure you'd take it real well!"

"And did I ever once say you shouldn't feel responsible?" Adler snapped back.

For a long while the two sat staring at one another, their very wills battling against each other. At last the nation sighed, running a hand through his silver hair – noticing as he did so that his fever hadn't exactly gone down yet.

_Great…I'm still not 100% yet. Perfect…_

"So...you never answered my question." Calming to a rational level once more, the Prussian eyed his captor, noticing that the 'General' looked about as shitty as he did. "What about you? Are you planning on becoming my next boss?"

Adler's eyes stared blankly for a moment. Then he made a small laugh, his face showing a flash of sadness.

"No. Someone like me…that's the last thing you need."

Gilbert felt a flutter of confusion.

_If he's not in it for power…then what the hell gives?_

With a smirk Gilbert shrugged. "Uh, huh. Like I believe that! You've got a whole army at your disposal and yet you're saying you'd rather not be supreme ruler of your own country?"

"I wasn't the original general of the army."

Gilbert stopped in surprise.

Adler sighed, looking away. "Our former General, he died. So the council decided I should take over – despite my protests. I'm merely serving in his stead until a suitable replacement can be found. Or until we win and you are restored as a nation – whichever comes first."

There was a knock at the door before either could continue the conversation. After Adler gave permission to enter a young man slipped into the room – about the same age as the rouge army's leader.

Was it just Gilbert, or did this guy look a little like Sweden?

"Oh. M' I interrupt'n?"

The resounding smack of Gilbert's hand hitting his forehead echoed in the room.

_Damn…he is one of Sweden's kids. That's just too weird - what the hell is he doing here anyway?_

True to his parent nation, the man had the serious, yet not un-kind expression that Gilbert had seen on Bertwald's face as long as he'd known him. The only difference was that this mini-me of the Nordic nation had honey-brown eyes and hair that was a brownish blonde.

The glasses were still there though.

"S'cuse me sir. Th' council wants t' talk with you."

"Thank you, I'll be right there."

With a final look at Gilbert, Adler rose and turned to the door.

"Hey, Gjord, look after this guy would you?"

"Sure thing."

The two stared at each other for a moment and Gilbert sighed after a long moment of thought.

He had been hoping he could ask some questions, but that might be harder than it seemed. Trying a smile he waved at Gjord who suddenly stiffened, his piercing eyes burning into Gilberts soul.

"Y' need somethin'?"

The Prussian pulled the covers back over his head. "Aw...man..."

_C'mon...I've handled worse! Now man up already, awesome me!_

Throwing the covers back off and sitting up once again Gilbert sheepishly looked at his new companion. After pulling his pillow onto his lap he took a deep breath and just said what he was thinking.

"So what can you tell me about Adler?"

The Swede blinked, adjusting his glasses. "What d'you want to know?"

"Who is he? Where is he from? And more importantly what does he want with me?"

For a moment Gjord looked uncomfortable (which made Gilbert uncomfortable) before he calmly walked over and took the seat the general had vacated.

"Y' want to know?"

"Yeah. It's kind of a big deal with you guys stomping around Europe and all."

"'wouldn't call it stompin'. We're just tryin' to get back Prussian territory."

"Why?" Gilbert questioned, growing impatient. "That's what I don't understand. Don't you guys get it? I'm not a nation anymore - there's an official document and everything!"

Gjord stared calmly at his guest for a moment before continuing. "So?"

"SO?" Gilbert parroted. "So what?"

"That's what I was gonna' ask y'."

A frown formed on the silver-haired mans face, his red eyes confused. Once he'd adjusted his glasses again Gjord folded his hands.

"W' know all 'bout that paper. But why aren't y' a country no more? B'cause a group of other countries say so? 's that how it works?"

The words sunk in, reaching some part of his own mind that he'd hushed long ago - the part that had raged against the decision made that year. Hadn't that been his argument? That they didn't have the right to ban him as a nation just because they felt like it?

For the first time in nearly forty years he felt the dark tendrils of indignation coiling around him again.

_If that was the way things worked Spain, England, Germany, Italy, Greece, Egypt and who knows how many others wouldn't even exist! Rome could have just said they weren't nations anymore. Hell, France under Napoleon could have said the same thing! God - even the British Empire could have just told India he didn't exist anymore!_

"That...that's politics." Gilbert covered, hoping to hide his growing anger. "Besides, we were all enemies and such. I can't imagine any of them wanting me around anymore."

Gjord tilted his head. "Strange. 'cause according to some 'o the books Russia didn't think 't was necessary."

_What?_ Gilbert jolted up. "Wait, you're telling me _Russia_ didn't want me dissolved?"

The other mans steady gaze confirmed it - even though Gilbert hadn't needed that. Didn't he remember Ivan saying something like that?

_"This really is a shame, Prussia...you were such an interesting nation. I hear they're going to give your lands to Poland so you won't be around anymore."_

"At the time..." Gilbert spoke softly at first before his confidence grew. "I thought Ivan was just being a dick - making fun of me for being a new ex-nation. But now that I think about it...he didn't sound like he was joking back then." Shaking his head the young man stood up, throwing the pillow aside to tousle his hair.

"It doesn't even fucking matter, ya know? I mean, I lost my nation status long before that _jerkass _took office!" Gilbert ranted, his anger returning despite all the years that had passed. "Besides...I...I wasn't a nation anymore by then."

"B'cause of WW1." Gjord stated calmly.

Clutching his arms tightly Gilbert took a deep breath.

"That's right...it was after WW1. The whole monarchy collapsed, than that jackass Papen overthrew my fucking government with some bullshit lies after I became one of the best fucking democracies in Europe! Great job, dick! Thanks for making it easy for the greatest _ass_ of all time to take me over!"

Suddenly dizzy Gilbert leaned back into the wall - Gjord at his side in a moment to help him.

"Y' alright?"

"Pissed, but fine...I guess as fine as I'm going to be anyway."

Helping the man back to his bed Gjord could feel the heaviness in his body, as if it took everything just to move it now.

"It's not like it even matters now anyway." Gilbert whispered defeatedly. "What's done is done and none of us can go back."

Gjord gave a slight snort. "But isn't that th' point? We're tryin' to change things now."

"But why? Why bother? You'll just make everything worse somehow! I don't know if you've realized but for some reason any time one of the Germanic nations gets into a war they find a way to punish us - even if we didn't start it! And don't get me started on the shit they did after the last war!"

Gilbert shuddered.

"I know I fucked up...it _was_ me that time. But dammit...I thought they'd be better than that - then to punish my citizens for what I did. But even that's not what really gets me."

Looking curiously at Gilbert, Gjord sat back down and focused his brown eyes on the former nation.

"What 's it then?"

With a bitter scowl Gilbert looked out the window, feeling the cold seeping in around him.

"If they had brought everyone to trial - anyone who had committed horrible crimes - I could say it was only fair. That it was a just reckoning. But it didn't happen that way. Maybe they thought...that since we had done such bad things that it was okay to treat Ludwig and I like shit after the fact. That seems to be the way it's gone recently.

But this time it was worse. They never took responsibility. Not for all the crimes they committed against innocent people, or prisoners of war they were supposed to protect and decided to kill instead. They never condemned anyone for war-crimes other than us - though there were plenty of other nations who did things just as bad as we did. And the sad part of it is that the ones who screwed up just like us were the ones pointing the finger and yelling 'EVIL'."

Gilbert finally turned his head to look back at his sole companion.

"I'm not saying we didn't mess up, but dammit Gjord, we weren't the only ones either! WE apologized, we've tried to do the right thing ever since. We don't expect complete forgiveness yet - we know it takes time. But why is it we're the only ones who ever get slammed like this? How come we're the only ones who have to say 'we're sorry'?"

After a moment of stillness, Gjord nodded.

"I think now y'might have a clue to why we're here."

* * *

**Authors Note:**

Prussia, you're depressing me.

_Prussia: Not my fault. You're the writer here. _

Fair enough. By the way, language! tsk. tsk.

_Prussia: Deal. I'm too awesome to change._

This story just seems to get heavier and heavier. *sigh* Most of the final conversation is based on reactions I've gotten when reading about the parts of history that apparently weren't 'government approved'. What things?

Check back next chap to find out.

EDIT: Spell check lied to me, so I had to re-write some stuff. *shakes fist* Spell-check...


	4. Driving

**Authors Note:**

I keep getting the paranoid feeling that his fic is going to get me in trouble. Although, maybe not.

*flop*

_Poland: Oh yeah, like, thanks for the *gift*. Its totes awesome!_

Glad you like it. Like I'd leave you high and dry dude.

_Germany: You know. You're _both_ breaking the fourth wall._

_Poland: Like, no. Russia ate that already._

_Germany: What?_

__Thanks Again to those of you actually reading this - I'll try to get the plot-ball rolling a little faster next time! -.-;

* * *

Adler sighed, rubbing his head.

He'd just been through a particularly exhausting meeting with some particularly irritating old farts that couldn't understand the difference between a chess board and a battlefield. Had the last general had to put up with this nonsense? If so then dying in battle might be a blessing...

"Man...these old men are going to drive me insane one of these days."

Approaching the room that held their 'guest', Adler was surprised to find Gjord standing outside the door, muscular arms crossed as he leaned against the cracked and peeling wall.

"So..." Adler began hesitantly, not sure what to expect. "How's Prussia?"

Gjord took a moment to think, his face emotionless before he spoke. "Belligerent."

"Figures." Adler groaned. "Just one more bit of bad news. Heh, well from what I've read in the history books he's never been anything but difficult. So what does he think about our goals?"

"He's not a fan."

"That's not comforting."

"I didn't say it would be." Gjord finished, pulling away from the wall. After a second he picked nervously at his threadbare green sweater. "So. How'd it go wit' the meeting?"

A sudden cloud of gloom came over Adler, his face downcast. Gjord thought he heard a slight sniffle.

"That bad huh?"

"Well..." The general sighed, recovering from his moment of woe. "We had to make a few...concessions...seeing as there's been a new development in this war."

Gjord looked curious. "A development? An' what would that be?"

Alders eye twitched as he gave a wry grin.

"We're getting our asses kicked."

"Is that right?" Gjord sighed. "So, where'r the concessions goin' to?"

"Let's just say that France will be very pleased..."

* * *

"AAAAHHHH~~~~~~" Francis cooed happily, small golden birds flittering around him as he practically floated into the conference room.

"Bonjour and what a wonderful day this is! It should have been expected though!"

America blinked curiously as he watched France from across the room. "So...what's up with that?"

England sighed. "He's happy because he has Alsace-Lorraine back."

"Oui my sour friend!" Francis grinned. "As you have said, my land is back where it belongs - no doubt due to my military prowess!"

"HAHAHAHA!" Alfred laughed before elbowing the nation beside him. "That's funny! Hey Iggy, you never told me Francis had a sense of humor!"

France glared back, a strange smile on his face. "Oh...so it's that again is it?"

Alfred chuckled. "Yeah, my intelligence told me that they just up and left! But hey, it's all good because you got your stuff back or whatever!"

With a faked coolness France shrugged. "Really? I was not aware that America had intelligence. They say you learn something new every day!"

The next five minutes of the meeting was a hail of insults coupled with some mild flailing as the two 'resolved' their differences. And it was this disarray that Ludwig walked into.

Once he'd gotten the news from Estonia on why the two were bickering he nodded and headed his own way. He was actually quite relieved to see France back to normal, even if it had awkward consequences later on. Germany began to feel as if that everything would go back the way it was before long.

"Get off! Don't lay your hands on me, frog!" He heard England's voice carry across the room.

"But I feel so wonderful and I always enjoy sharing wonderful feelings!" France countered.

"Exactly what the hell are you trying to feel?"

With a soft smile Germany moved toward his normal spot.

_See...everything will work out just fine. France is back to normal and once we find out who is behind this rogue army and put a stop to it Poland will be himself again too. Then I can get some peace and quiet and things can go back to being relatively sane again._

But the moment he opened his eyes to the scene in front of him he felt that hope break into thousands of little laughing pieces.

_I really have to stop telling myself that things can't get worse, because it seems like every time I do I set myself up for disappointment._

Nestled in his hair, Gil-bird gave a nervous chirp. He'd become Germany's latest accessory ever since Prussia had gone AWOL. Ludwig assumed it was just because the little guy needed someone to cling to and as the little yellow passenger didn't take up too much room Ludwig had decided to let him be.

But now as the bird shifted nervously, trying to disappear even deeper into the blond hair the normally stoic nation found himself a bit envious and wishing he had a chance to do the same.

Ludwig shot an irritated look at Vash who shrugged, checking the rifle that sat constantly at his side.

"What are you looking at? Business is business. And today, business was good."

A loud laugh drew the Germans attention back to the main cause of his throbbing headache - Poland sitting on the table, dressed in forest green gear and surrounded by hot pink weaponry.

"Like, hey Germany. I, like, totally got some new toys! Aren't they totes awesome?"

"Uh..." Ludwig stared, not entirely sure how to answer - his only thoughts being _'tread lightly'_. "And what is the occasion?"

The seated nation grinned, checking out his favorite piece of his newest armament - an impeccably painted handgun accented with various hues of lightest red and embellished with a majestic white eagle.

"I just, like, thought I needed some stuff for my house. Man, it's totally tricked out now too. Wait 'till you see my pony! He, like, totally got an upgrade!"

Making sure to take the long way around Ludwig sat in his usual seat. For a moment he stared at the table, trying to collect his rattled thoughts.

_Great. Poland's gone crazy! As long as he doesn't become like Switzerland and shoot at Italy in the night things might be okay. Then again, that situation wouldn't happen if Italy would stop streaking across the countryside..._

Looking over his shoulder, Feliks hummed. "Cheer up, emo-dude! I mean, I've totally got the right to defend myself so that's all I'm doing."

With a more serious undercurrent he added.

"Besides, if you're not doing anything wrong ya won't get into trouble with me, right?"

Ludwig's look was anything but warm.

"I've offered aid to you and your people Poland. That would defeat the purpose if I was 'trouble' wouldn't it?"

A smile appeared on Felik's face. "Like, hell yeah it totally would. You'd, like, have to be a total idiot to do that!"

Considering the conversation officially over Ludwig opened his briefcase. It wasn't his day to present but he needed to at the least take notes seeing as he wouldn't be the only one needing them.

"VE~~~" Came a relaxed and cheery voice, right on cue as Italy skipped over. "Germany! Guess what! I brought a new pasta I created with me today! You want to share it over lunch?"

Ludwig smiled, glad for this random (if strange) ray of sunshine. "Yes. I'd like that."

"Really! It's really good! You'll like it and I brought plenty with me so even if you pig out and eat a lot there will be more to go around!"

With a nod Ludwig continued looking through his briefcase. "Thank you Italy."

For a moment the Italian stared at his friend, then leaned over to look him in the face, causing the stoic nation to jump back in surprise a good foot or two.

"Agh! What are you up to?"

"Ve~" Feliciano sighed. "Is there something wrong, Germany? You seem a little down in the dumps. I know! Did a girl you like ignore you? I hate it when that happens. It sucks. But don't worry - we have pasta so it'll all be okay!"

Ludwig ran a hand through his hair, momentarily disturbing Gil-bird. "No. It's not that. It's just..."

Following the nations line of sight, Feliciano found himself staring at Francis doing something rather questionable (surprise) to a red in the face and positively livid Arthur.

"Ah! France is back to normal! Is that why you're upset?" Feliciano wondered, a finger to his lips as he thought.

With a shake of the head Ludwig denied that reasoning. "No. Although, it does seem that when France is feeling his best the world sleeps its worst..." He commented as he watched the struggling nations across the room.

"Not really." The Italian chirped. "He stopped climbing in through the windows at night remember? Ever since you nailed them shut it's been super quiet!"

While Feliciano continued his train of thought Ludwig caught sight of a familiar face on the far side of the room. Austria had just arrived.

"Um...Hey, Italy?" Germany interrupted.

Feliciano paused, smiling. "Yeah, brother France is a perv. But we still love him, right?"

Ludwig looked away. "Not really - I mean, different subject Italy. It's just that I need to talk to Austria for a moment, it's very important."

The young nations face lit up, his curl bobbing softly around his face. "Ve! That's wonderful! We can invite Mr. Austria too! Even if he is a bit stuffy sometimes I'm sure it'll be great fun!"

"No Italy." Ludwig corrected, rising from his chair. "I really need to talk to him alone, but I will be back for our lunch together alright?"

After a momentary frown Feliciano's mood lightened. "Okay dokey! You know where to find me!"

Leaving the small and happy nation in his seat, Ludwig made his way across the crowded hall to where Roderich stood - talking with his ex-wife Elizaveta. She noticed the approaching nation first and gave a subtle nod in his direction, causing her companion to look over toward the source of her distraction.

"Oh, Germany." Roderich greeted, his voice lightening only a bit from its normal bored tones. "Is there something you needed?"

Looking around nervously Ludwig nodded. "Yes. I need to speak to you."

"Well, what is it?"

"I need to speak with you, _privately_." Ludwig clarified, adding softly. "It's about my brother...and it's very important."

He hoped that the aristocrat would take the hint and leave it that. To his relief his message got through as with a stiff sigh Roderich turned back to Elizaveta. "Elizaveta, I'll be back in a moment."

"Sure." The young woman responded, eyes wide and curious. "I'll be here."

"Thank you."

Following Ludwig through the crowd, Roderich allowed himself to be lead to the front door and out into the empty hall. From across the room Arthur - having finally evaded Francis - took notice, a frown crossing his face.

Seated on the table Feliks watched with wary eyes.

_He's talking, like, all secretive with Austria?_

Returning to his stockpile the blond shrugged. "Psh...Yeah, whatever."

* * *

"This isn't like you, Ludwig."

"I know...I just don't want to talk about this in front of everyone. It's a bit of a touchy issue and I'd rather the rest of the world didn't find out just yet if at all possible."

The Austrian looked stunned. He had no idea what to expect now. Ludwig had said it concerned Gilbert - so what was that rogue ex-nation up to that could cause an international incident?

Ludwig leaned against the stone columns that marked the entrance to the courthouse where the meeting was being held. Raising a hand he ran his fingers through his hair - searching until he found Gil-bird. "Roderich. I have a problem." He stated bluntly as the bird chirped, catching Austria's attention as it tousled Germany's hair.

"What? Has that little bird of his attached itself to you now? No wonder. Half the time he forgets it exists."

"No." Ludwig sighed. "He left Gil-bird on purpose. He's disappeared Roderich."

"Disappeared? You sure he's not out partying? He used to disappear quite a bit."

Ludwig shook his head. "He's been gone for more than a week."

A tense feeling took over Roderichs body, his senses suddenly on edge. "Has he been gone...since all of this started?" He asked, indicating the current international situation. Roderich hoped that Ludwig's answer would be no - but the Germans solemn nod dissolved that wish.

For a while the two stood in silence, watching the sun rise over the city.

"France...the territory that was first attacked was his was once, correct? The border lands of Alsace-Lorraine?"

"Yes, that was the first strike. The second was the northern coast of Poland." Ludwig confirmed solemnly. After a moment of tense silence he continued.

"Look, Roderich - I know what it looks like. But until I find out what's really going on -"

"I won't tell the other nations." Roderich interrupted, giving his relative a stern but sympathetic look. "I can imagine what their first thoughts will be if _this_ gets out. But tell me this, Ludwig -"

For a moment Austria looked at his fellow nation, wondering just what he thought about all this.

"Is he capable of trying to re-establish himself?"

Ludwig sighed. "His capability...should never be underestimated. However; I'd like to believe there is more to his disappearance than that. I don't like to think by brother is behind all of this - especially seeing as there were no warnings before he vanished. Gilbert hasn't talked about re-establishment - at least not in over forty or more years. He didn't say anything out of the usual...but..."

Roderich focused intently on Ludwig who slowly continued.

"I suppose...he hadn't been looking so good. He looked sickly. I wonder if that may have had something to do with it."

With the heave of a heavy sigh, Roderich looked into the gilded lobby. "We should go back. The meeting will start without us. Besides -." He added, once again leveling a stern look at Ludwig.

"Now they'll be even more suspicious. The longer we talk the more nervous they'll get."

Eyes going wide, the blond man suddenly growled to himself.

_Stupid! I should have thought of that - especially with what's happening now. Great, if we've been noticed they'll start imagining we'll be trying to re-unite again. Damn..._

* * *

Ahead of them Elizaveta hurried. She couldn't afford to let on that she'd been eavesdropping on the two of them. She'd thought the conversation would go somewhere else completely. ( Hey! A girl could dream!)

But this...this had been entirely unexpected and as much as she hated that smug, arrogant, self-righteous jerk...she'd sure miss him if he didn't come back.

After all, who else could she arbitrarily smack with a frying pan? And besides that, whenever that ass disappeared too long her Roderich started getting all disjointed. Prussia's absence just wouldn't do!

* * *

Adler knocked on the door, receiving a string of muffled curses as a result.

"You know, I'm coming in whether it pleases you or not." He stated, an edge of irritation in his voice.

"Fuck off." Was the next reply.

Gritting his teeth, Adler opened the door - his brown eyes scanning the room for the obstinate nation. "Come out. We need to talk."

"Why? I already know what you want to say." Gilbert pouted. He stood near the window, leaning against the wall as he watched the movement of men in the yard below. Standing alone in the dark, the sun barely reaching through the blinds he seemed a most intense figure - showing a deeper side to him than what Adler had yet seen at that point.

"I suppose you do." The General nodded, closing the door behind him. With easy strides he crossed the room.

"I still need to ask you though. Will you become a nation again? Will you allow us to re-establish you?"

"No."

The breath that Adler had been holding left suddenly, the only sound in the room for a moment. Then he turned away.

"Grab your coat."

Gilbert jerked, looking at Adler in surprise. He'd expected an argument, maybe some yelling and threats of violence - not calm acceptance. "What?"

"Get your coat. We're going for a drive."

With a snort Gilbert obliged, snatching his jacket and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Sure, as long as you don't pull any funny stuff."  
Adler just gave him a serious look. "Is there really anything I would be able to do as a human that would even affect you in the least?"

Gilbert looked away with a twinge of embarrassment. The guy had a good point.

As he walked through the halls of the safe-house for the first time he saw the men that were participating in this exercise in insanity. Scraggly soldiers raced back and forth with messages from their companies as others moved supplies in and out of the old wrought iron gates. Climbing into a relatively new car Gilbert snapped the buckle closed and leaned back as Adler did the same on his side. Once both men were in the General drove them away from the compound, only giving a subtle wave to his men as they left the building behind.

For a long while they drove through woods and valleys, crossing winding rivers that stretched on into the horizon, crusted with ice and snow. After an hour or so Gilbert was starting to get bored.

"So...where are we going?"

"Berlin."

For the second time the nation jumped in shock. "No way? But aren't you topping the worlds most wanted list right now?"

Adler nodded. "Yeah. Your point?"

"You'll get caught, idiot!" Gilbert laughed - as if it should be clear as day. You think my brothers just going to let you waltz in and not notice?" He added with just a hint of brotherly pride. Gilbert knew Ludwig was no pushover and if this guy thought he could mosey on into Germany and not get caught he was in for one hell of an awakening.

The wheel moving easily in his hands, Adler continued to drive.

"I can at least get myself in and out fairly easily. To my knowledge I haven't been tagged by any national databases for causing trouble. And I haven't released my face or name to the public so they don't know I'm the General behind all this. But..."

With a slow, deep breath Adler continued. "You've decided not to become a nation. I really can't blame you considering all that's happened. But if you are fighting against us, then there's no point in my army continuing any further." He glanced over at Prussia for just a second.

"I can't _force_ you to be a nation. _You_ have to want it. I can't hold you against your will; we don't have the strength for that. If you don't want it then our battle is meaningless."

For a moment Adler seemed to gather his thoughts before his voice came forth, low and even. "My men...they know and trust me. I know they'll follow my orders. So when I drop you off in Berlin, I'll turn myself over to the government on the condition they allow me to broadcast the message to my troops to stop the fighting. There's no point in continuing bloodshed for a fools cause."

Gilbert felt that uncomfortable feeling in his gut return. That feeling that things weren't going the way they should. He didn't want to fight anymore...and maybe he was foolish to try and deny his ultimate fate for so long. But he didn't want to take someone else out with him.

"Or." Gilbert suggested. "You could drop me off, leave Germany and go back and tell your men yourself to stop fighting."

"You think we'll get away that easy?" Adler whispered hoarsely, gripping the wheel tighter. Gilbert couldn't help but feel a pinch of anxiety.

"We led an insurrection against a sovereign nation. We forcibly moved thousands of people from their homes and have been fighting against a government army - causing casualties on both sides. You know damn well they'll tear the countryside apart looking for every last one of us. At least if they have the ringleader they might just call it 'checkmate' and be done with it."

After a long quiet pause Adler murmured; "Besides. By taking you out of the compound I'm in direct defiance of the councils orders. If I return with you, it'll probably be a lecture or a suspension - not that they can really afford that right now though. But if you're not with me when I drive through that gate I'll be killed for treason."

"So your great idea is to sacrifice yourself to hopefully spare your troops?" Gilbert growled. He couldn't believe that - what good would it do? Could anyone really be that willing to suffer for someone else's sake? "And if it doesn't work?"

"Then they'll have enough time to get out at least."

Gilbert shook his head angrily, his half-smile hiding his growing discomfort. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead, martyr yourself. Idiot. You don't even know what's waiting do you? Well, let me tell you-"

"Execution. Most likely."

Gilbert paused, turning to stare coldly at the man who had stated it so bluntly - as if it had nothing to do with him. "What?"

"As I said...I really crossed the line. More likely than not I'll be tried and if found guilty sentenced to either life in prison or death. Although...seeing as I did make a violent attempt to usurp a lawful government the punishment will more likely than not be death. If nothing else my execution would be meant to serve as an example to others to not repeat my mistake."

Gilbert laughed. "You really are out of touch man! You do realize that most of Europe had outlawed capital punishment right? Nah, you may rot in jail the rest of your life but they won't kill you."

"Really." Adler responded dryly as if not believing his passenger at all. "So the punishment for inciting a war is life in prison? Somehow I doubt that'll be how it pans out. I guess it just depends on who tries me I guess. If I'm tried in Germany they probably won't, seeing as it's against the law - but if I'm handed over to Poland I can't expect them to not make me an exception to the rule for all the trouble I've caused them and their people."

Gilbert stared out the window, arms crossed. "I don't think they will."

"You don't think? Or you hope not? You know these nations better than I ever can Prussia and I'd like to know what to expect." Adler stated quietly, despite the stern undertone of it.

"I don't know." Gilbert growled. "I mean...its politics...so it depends alright?" A moment later the former nation sat up. "No. I do know. They won't kill you. Lock you up, hell yeah. But they won't break the law just to get rid of you."

"You trust them that much?" Adler wondered. "I wish I had your confidence."

"What the hell is your problem?" The Prussian snapped. "You asked for my opinion, I gave it. I'm telling you that you're going to be fine. Sort of. Anyway it's probably for the best - the sooner the fighting ends the better!"

Leaning back again Gilbert smirked. "Don't worry, I'll send you letters in jail."

Adler remained silent, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Deciding to get some sleep Prussia closed his eyes.

_He'll be okay...relatively speaking. No one executes people in Europe anymore for the most part so he'll get his life in prison and his guys can scatter I guess. I go back to playing video games and annoying my brother. _

Gilbert opened an eye for a moment.

_I mean...he knew this was what would happen if he lost, right? He had to have been prepared for that. So what's with that look on his face...like this is his last day on earth?_

"Hey. You said you wished you had my confidence. Why did you say that?"

Adler sighed. "You speak as if the nations of the world were infallible. That they never err. I just don't hold any such notions."

"You don't know them well enough."

"And how well do you know them, Prussia?"

Gilbert stared back at the General. He fiddled with the buttons on his jacket and brushed a bit of lint off his boots. "Well enough."

After another long stretch and a deep breath Adler continued. "Really? So who would you say is the most blameless then - who should I appeal to for mercy if I grow faint of heart?"

Gilbert snorted. "Well, I'd say that new kid, America. I mean, I don't know much about him since he hasn't been around that long but he's pretty young and idealistic."

Adler gave him a silent stare. He opened his mouth, and then stopped. At length he spoke, "Really? That's your best guess? In that case I'm fucked."

With a confused look Gilbert eyed his captor. "Why do you say that?"

Adler's serious eyes focused back on the road. "Let me tell you a little story..."


	5. Conference 1

The silence stretched for a moment as Adler thought, weighing his options as Gilbert waited expectantly, foot tapping with impatience.

"Actually...it might be more believable if you see it yourself."

"Me? And what is it you want me to see? This isn't going to be some sort of cross continent road trip is it?" Gilbert asked, leery about the prospect of spending even more time in the car. He hated closed in spaces. He had his reasons.

"No." Adler assured him. "There's a briefcase in the back seat. Maybe you can reach it from here."

"Cool!" In a flash Gilbert had unbuckled his seat-belt and was trying to shimmy his way past the two front seats and into the back – nearly running a cursing Adler off the road. Once he was safely seated again ( now sprawled all over the backseat ) the Prussian popped open the package, finding nothing but cleanly organized folders inside. "What is all this?"

"It's files. They detail some interesting...projects...that some nations of interest have taken on. Not one of them charitable in the least. In fact, you could say this is what got many of the people I command riled up in the first place."

Gilbert made a sound. "Really? Where do I start?"

In the front Adler shrugged. "Start with America if you want. But I'm warning you," He made sure to catch the curiously red eyes with his own brown ones in the rear view mirror. "Any notions of what you _think_ this country is like may be destroyed. And you still have to interact with them for who knows how long."

Placing a hand on his chest Gilbert nodded.

_Yeah...who knows how long my body's got before it cuts out on me._

"I can handle it. I'm a big boy now."

"If you insist."

A bit eager for some gossip Gilbert removed Alfred's file and cracked the folder open, taking in the first article that his eyes fell on. "Operation...Paperclip?"

As Adler drove the minutes turned to hours, and with each passing moment the passenger in the back devoured national secrets that had finally come to light. Things he never would have imagined perfect little hero Alfred resorting to were right there in black and white. He wasn't the only one though. All the big ones were there. Ivan's file was the only one that wasn't a surprise – but maybe that was because he'd been imprisoned by Braginski once and knew most of _his_ dirty little secrets already.

But the others...it was too much.

"Hey."

A bit sleepily Adler glanced at the rear-view, honestly kind of glad that Gilbert had spoken up. He had actually started to fall asleep a bit. "Need something?"

"Yeah. I want to make a little detour. There's something I need to take care of."

Adler sighed. "Is it important?"

At this Gilbert's eyes flashed. "You better believe it."

* * *

Feliks stretched lazily. All and all it had been a pretty boring evening – after the world conference he had just come home and enjoyed the rest of his day. Of course the meeting had been boring – as usual. England could, like, talk forever sometimes...

But now, nestled into a reclining chair and flipping with boredom through the channels with a stick of pocky hanging from his mouth Feliks was feeling a little sleepy. His green eyes had started to droop about an hour ago but in a fit of stubbornness he insisted on staying up.

However; it was getting pretty late and the sleepy nation had a second round of meetings and presentations slated for tomorrow, which meant it was time to hit the hay.

Rising from his chair Feliks yawned again, little drops of moisture forming at the corners of his eyes with the effort. The young man clicked off the t.v., finished his pocky and shuffled towards his bedroom. "Man...I'll be glad when I can, like, sleep normally again. These meetings are so not cool." Passing down the partially lit hallway the groggy young man stopped as a draft of unusually cold air hit him, waking him just a bit.

"What? Oh man...did I leave the window open again?" Feliks grumbled as he struggled with the old glass, pushing it down to shut out the freezing wind. After a few mumbled growls and a creaking groan the old panel finally slid back down and with an irritated sigh Feliks clicked the lock. "You'd, like, think I'd remember stuff like that." With yet another yawn and a scratch of his blond head he shuffled out of the side room and back into the hall. "Seriously." He mused, still puzzled over the window. "When did I even open it?"

Just outside he heard a car backfire and for a moment Feliks wondered if he should find the driver and send him to a good mechanic – that sound couldn't mean good things for the dude's car.

But for some reason his legs weren't working so good anymore. And why was he sliding down the side of his wall? The pain took a second to register before coming to him with full force. Clutching at his left side he tried to take in gasping breaths with lungs that didn't want to work. And over the sound of his coughing gasps he heard an unsettlingly familiar clicking.

Not the sound of a gun being cocked; instead it was far more frightening – the sound of boots approaching on a hardwood floor. Feliks's neck began to burn with a prickling sensation. His body tightened at the noise and he glanced down to see a growing stain of red seeping through his clothes.

Someone was in the house.

The sight of the open window flashed in his mind and he cursed himself for his carelessness. Of course, what idiot would open a window in winter? He hadn't forgotten at all...

"Who...who's there?" The nation demanded, trying his best to turn toward his attacker. Painful as it was a simple bullet wouldn't kill him – in fact he was pretty sure that nothing _could_ actually kill him. At least that's what bitter experience had taught him. But before he could manage to turn – when he was about halfway to his feet – a hard fist sent him spinning to the ground again. Now on his side he could catch the sight of the intruder in the hall, his lanky form clad in a black uniform and his crimson eyes dancing with mirth that caused Felix's heart to skip a beat.

"Yo." A cocky looking albino smirked, taking a few steps toward Feliks who tried his best to move back along the floor.

"You asshole! What are you, like, even doing here? Are you crazy?"

Gilbert laughed, his voice like a knife on glass. "Maybe! That's what they say anyway." With mild disinterest Gilbert pushed Feliks onto his back with a slight kick of his boot. "You know, they keep telling me that my brain must be broken. That it hasn't acted right since 43'. Kinda ridiculous huh?"

Trying to keep a fierce front, Feliks' emerald eyes glared hatefully back. "Really? I like, totally can't imagine why." Sitting up partially, the injured nation continued. "You know your brother is going to be totally pissed if you cause him trouble like this!"

"What makes you think he doesn't know?" Gilbert laughed unhurriedly, the sharp black of his uniform now visible in the moonlight that streamed in through a nearby window.

_Oh God...no...don't tell me he's gone back..._

Felix gritted his teeth, now unsure as how to proceed. He knew all to well that when the former nation of Prussia was like – this – that anything could get you killed in a most painful way. But if he really was...

_Then nothing I say will matter anyway._

Felik's expression hardened with defiance. "He doesn't. You're here alone. Why?"

For a moment they watched one another in cold silence.

With speed Gilbert grabbed Feliks by the collar of his shirt, lifted him from the ground, and slammed him into the wall of the corridor hard enough to make the other man see flashes of white. The pressure of the arm against his neck made catching his breath from the blow impossible and Feliks found himself growing lightheaded.

With a growl he kicked out, successfully hitting Gilbert in the leg while simultaneously trying to hit the white haired demon in the face. For the trouble of his efforts he felt something cold and metal press against his chest a split second before another bullet ripped through him. His body went suddenly slack as half it's oxygen supply was immediately destroyed and Felix struggled to breath around the blood that was now flooding his right lung.

"Dammit." Gilbert growled as his face moved uncomfortably close to Felix's, causing the Polish man to snarl at the unwanted proximity. "You never did know when to act right. You need to keep it down or the neighbors might hear."

At this Gilbert chuckled, taking a step back. Without the force of the Prussian holding him against the wall Feliks slumped, hitting the floor with a dull thud and falling onto his side.

He couldn't move, could barely breathe. In a matter of moments he had been rendered completely helpless and he _hated_ it. He utterly despised being at the mercy of others. It's why he wanted to get stronger – not only for himself but for the people he wanted to protect from the rest of a cruel world.

Couldn't he even do that much?

From the corner of his eye Feliks could only watch as Gilbert replaced his gun, mumbling something about having to clean it and what a drag that was. Then the albino pulled out a long dagger and after a moment of long contemplation he knelt down by his victim, pushing Feliks onto his back one last time.

"Now as long as you hold still this will go real quick, okay? I'm awesome with knives so just – well – don't relax but you get the idea right?"

Felix tried a protest but in the end only coughed up more of his own blood as he watched the knife move towards his neck.

_Damn it...not this again._ He thought as he felt the cold metal bite into his flesh.

_No...didn't we promise...never..._

Felix bolted up.

"Damn it all to hell! Everyone promised it would never happen again!"

The force of his movement caused the chair to do a magnificent flip backwards – spitting in the face of physics as it did so and somehow managing to pin Poland in the process.

For a moment the only sounds were his heavy panting and the infomercial on t.v.

Then Felix closed his eyes.

"Man...this is, like, totally stupid."

* * *

"So anyway...I just got bored so I figured I'd call. You've got nothing to do right?"

His Lithuanians friends eye twitched with mild irritation as he set his bag down at the door. Looking around the familiar home he sighed, realizing he was going to have to spend the night -as late as it was he'd never be able to fly back AND have time to fly to Berlin for the next meeting.

"Yeah, nothing to do." _But sleep. And work._ He added mentally, a bit grumpy from his hurried flight.

Not appearing to notice, Felix dug into another scoop of ice cream. "So yeah, we haven't hung out in a while so I like, totally thought it would be cool to get together. Right?" Accepting his fate, Toris nodded.

But as they moved around the house the Lithuanian began to notice unusual things. For one, any time they went anywhere Toris had to go in first and stumble through the darkness to turn on all the lights before Felix would even come near the room. In fact, every light in the large house ended up being on within a few minutes of Toris' arrival.

Then there was the nonstop chatter. Of course the man had always been a talker but he also liked to listen ( especially to gossip ). But the fact that Feliks seemed to be doing nothing more than talking to hear the sound of his own voice hit Toris as a warning bell that something was wrong. But whatever the source of his anxiety was Feliks was being unusually tight-lipped about it. So as they settled down for the night Toris let the thought go. Feliks would tell him when he was ready. And as he watched his friends chest rise and fall Toris fell asleep.

For the rest of the night Felix watched him, just glad to not be alone in a creepy old house with too many bad nightmares lurking in the corners.

* * *

"Take it."

A bit confused, Gilbert stared blankly at his temporary companion who held out the long - nearly worn through - leather coat.

The second the pair had arrived in Berlin Adler made a bee-line for the normal world conference meeting place – a fancy hotel near the center of the city. With his rowdy native guiding him every step of the way they managed to make good time despite the heavy traffic. Which was to be expected from a former nation in their former city. But just to keep things on track Adler gave the white haired man a lecture about how they were going to be late because Gilbert just had to stop the trip for some pastries.

And all Gilbert did was shrug.

What could he say? he needed comfort food after reading all the shit in those files and nothing works like pastry.

The former nation had no idea if he was playing right into some nefarious plan or not but he did know that it _had_ been his idea to go there in the first place. He needed to know. There were so many things he didn't get. There was far too much he didn't understand – enough to make him uncomfortable with everything he thought he knew already. And the guys who knew the answers were all going to be there.

But Gilbert _hadn't_ anticipated on wearing an older-than-dirt-looking coat over his magnificent frame.

For a moment Gilbert stared at the General as if the man had lost his mind. As a reasonable and intelligent centuries old being he refused to take that ratty excuse for a coat jacket for several reasons.

One - it was freezing and Adler would need it.

And two - it looked like shit.

"Uh…no. Thanks though."

"I didn't ask."

Gilbert snorted, hiding a sudden smirk.

_God. This guy's almost as bad as Germany, trying to be nice by ordering me around. Pft._

"Prussia." Adler sighed, patience wearing a little thin. "I have another jacket in the trunk, but it's not a long as this one so I'll need you to make do with this."

He pointed at the dark blue uniform that the ex-nation had been 'discovered' in. "If you walk around like that you'll be arrested. Cover up."

"Oh. So you weren't offering me a jacket out of the goodness of your heart then? And here I thought you cared." Gilbert joked mockingly as he hid his embarrassment.

_Duh. Where the hell have I been? I left the house when it was dark __**just **__so that no-one would see me stalking around in uniform. _

"Thanks, mom." The nation rolled his eyes, reaching out to take the jacket which Adler suddenly pulled back, deep nut-brown eyes concerned. "What's the deal?" Gilbert griped. "You just told me to wear it and now you won't give it up?"

"It's just…" The man began, looking a little flustered. "Promise you won't damage it?"

Gilbert stared at the barely clinging to life brown trench coat. "What? You mean more?"

With a glare Adler pulled the coat over his shoulders. "Never mind, get arrested for all I care!"

"Wait! I'm sorry your coat sucks!" Gilbert yelped out, flinching a bit at Adler's growing death-glare. "But I'm so awesome that if I wear it it'll look like it's made for a freaking rock-star."

Relaxing his hunched shoulders Adler finally removed the coat in question and handed it over to Gilbert who slipped it easily over his controversial wardrobe, covering it up quite well. "Just make sure I get it back…somehow…"

Out of curiosity, Gilbert asked. "So…what's this coat about anyway?"

Turning slightly, Adler seemed conflicted before answering.

"It was…my grandfathers. He gave it to my father…and my father gave it to me. We've just sort of held onto it."

"A family heirloom?"

"Well…" Adler thought. "It was the only possession they both had at different times in their lives. And it's really the only thing I have now. So I guess it is an heirloom of sorts."  
Prussia fingered the softened leather - pliant and supple after so much use.

"I'll make sure you get it back then."

"Thank you."

Having brought the conversation to a close Prussia stood for a moment longer.

His strange human companion had parked at a …well…park. There, they had sort of hid out until most people were gone before they left the car. And that's when Adler had told him to put on the coat. But Prussia still wasn't sure about what he had to do next. Adler gave him a long look.

"So. What are you waiting for? There's a world meeting, right? I'm sure you have questions."

At this Gilberts grip on the briefcase tightened. "Yeah…you could say someone's got some explaining to do."

"Then go. I'll be here."

"In the snow?" Gilbert laughed, holding out a hand – allowing the tiny white flakes to gather. He could feel the growing cold on his head but didn't mind it. It's not like it would make his hair look weird or anything – in fact it blended right in. Probably made him look even awesome-er than normal even!

"You'll freeze your ass off you know."

Adler waved him off irritably. "I told you, I have another coat. Now stop wasting time and go already – or do you want me to hold your hand on the way there."

"Ew." Prussia protested, scrunching his face. With that he moved away from the man and stalked off.

"Whatever; I'll take care of your freaking coat Mr. 'Europe's most wanted.' Just don't get hauled off by the police before I get back." Glancing over his shoulder Gilbert smirked. "And I'll totally call you on it if you wuss out on me and head for shelter."

"Not likely." Adler snorted, a rare smile playing across his face. "Now move it slacker."

"Pft. Tschüss." Was the care-free response as Gilbert strode easily away through the snow, hands in his pockets.

* * *

Roderich glanced over at his cousin, growling something vaguely ominous under his breath.

Ludwig looked to the ceiling as if hoping for some sort of aid.

God decided to ignore him.

The nations at the meeting stared them down, all assembled at the table and all eyes locked on their forms.

"Didn't I tell you?" Roderick hissed in a hushed tone, only as loud as he needed to be for Ludwig to hear him.

The other man lowered his head in agreement.

_That __**was**__ a bad idea._

"Oh. So you two have decided to join us after all." Arthur commented, the barest hint of a steel edge to his voice. "It must have been rather important for both of you to miss the first ten minutes of our assembly. After all, you two are hardly the first countries I'd expect to be late." He added with an angry glance to America's empty seat.

Under the scrutinizing gaze of so many nations Ludwig realized that the room felt too closed up and _much_ too warm.

"Leave them alone, England!" A firm woman's voice piped up, causing the rooms attention to divert momentarily from the two nations at the door to Elizaveta who stared them all down with blazing eyes. "Look at all of you! You should be ashamed after all! There is nothing wrong with a chat – especially among family!"

"That may be – " Arthur began only to have her fiery eyes land on him. He gulped, trying to hide his discomfort.

"And you-" She began, voice raising to levels that made Roderich put a weary hand to his forehead. His ex-wife was really on a roll now wasn't she?

"You. Starting things like this – you should know better! And so what if they were a bit late, SOME countries haven't even shown up yet and furthermore; if Germany and Roderick want to speak alone then who are you to stop them?" With a devious smirk she continued. "I'm sure you'd be pretty angry if someone objected to you and America having an intimate discussion."

Arthur's mouth hung open, more at the inclusion of 'intimate' into a phrase including him and Alfred than anything else that had been said. "I…if I and Alfred choose to speak inti- in – in . If we want to speak in private we are entitled to do so!" After the red tinge in his cheeks had subsided he shrugged back his shoulders and cleared his throat with a nervous cough. "Well. I suppose Hungary has a point. However; please keep in mind we have due cause for concern."

At this the mood turned cold as each nations mind flicked uncontrollably back to the event that had primarily defined the 20th century and what 'intimate discussions' could allude to in the future.

Feeling anxiety – and yes, even a pinch of anger – rising in his chest. Ludwig finally moved forward, startling Roderich as he did so.

"For the record, England – if you're going to raise such suspicions in the future I would like to let you know that the discussion between Austria and myself was not in the least political. It was a personal issue that I needed to discuss with him alone." Looking back at his relative he saw a slight nod, as if Roderich approved of him speaking his peace.

"A personal issue?" England pressed. "Of what nature?"

"I…I can't tell you that."

This time a suspicious glare was the whole of England's response.

"Fine. Then let's get on with this meeting then – we have a lot to discuss and little-"

"SUP DUDES!"

"It's about bloody time!" Arthur snapped, standing up from his seat to point at the American. "You're late!"

Alfred slurped his soda with a pout. "You're a hard ass."

"Wha- what did you just say to me you ungrateful little-"

And so the illustrious world conference began.


	6. Conference 2

**AUTHORS NOTE:**

There's a reason why it's bold and at the top of the page.

This may or may not cause a problem with you guys ( my awesome wonderful totally fantabulous readers ) but I thought it only fair to warn you about this chapter.

There's nothing really graphic here to worry about ( other than language ) but it does bring up quite a few thorny historical issues. If it turns out you don't like controversy you should be able to skip ahead a chapter.

Hopefully you won't feel the need to, and it is really important to the story but -

_Prussia: That's it. I'm cutting you off! Get on with it people! Kese~_

* * *

_**"Precautions must be taken not only to protect operations from exposure to enemy forces but also to conceal these activities from the American public in general. The knowledge that the agency is engaging in unethical and illicit activities would have serious repercussions in political and diplomatic circles." **_

_**Anonymous CIA auditor in reference to MK-ULTRA**_

"You sure you're alright?"

Feliks flashed a winning ( if still a little shaky) smile. "Like, totally!"

Toris didn't look convinced so Feliks forced a bit more bounce into his step even though he really felt like shit from the considerable lack of sleep from the night before.

Or the ice-cream and cookie dough he'd devoured right before they left.

"I'm totes fine! Why wouldn't I be?" Feliks bluffed.

"If you say so." Toris relented with a sigh, tousling his long brown hair. It had been one of those mornings alright...

But for Feliks the day couldn't have started better. Now that the sun had risen into the clearing sky his jitters had calmed to a merely irritating twitch now and then instead of the terrified trembling he'd had to put up with before first light had broken. Then there were the nightmares that came if he even shut his eyes for a second...

But his outlook brightened just as quickly as the dawning day and as he swiped the pass-card in the elevator he started to hum easily to himself. "Like, Once we're done here I'm totally getting something sweet. Wanna go with me?"

"You're asking?" Toris teased with mock astonishment ( and a bit of real astonishment as well, after all hadn't he just finished off a tub of ice cream this morning? ), causing Feliks to pinch him as the two laughed.

"Like, just to be polite. I'd make you go anyway." The blond winked.

With a hearty chuckle the two made there way towards the meeting area. Solid wood doors with their elaborate paneling were already thrown open, revealing the inside of the room where nations milled about. But before the two could step inside there stood a trio of figures blocking their way. Feliks felt his mood dampen a bit, wondering why it _always_ had to be Germany right at the freaking entrance every time he came in? Was that his new job? Door guard? At least Austria was sort of tolerable sometimes – even with that elitist attitude.

A second later he chucked that thought, quite venomously remembering the partitions of his glorious person that the conductor with the stick up his ass had been so happy to engage in...

"Thanks. I knew my bro would handle things. You're such a pal, Kese~"

For a moment, Feliks couldn't breath. Toris unconsciously grabbed onto his friend, surprised at how suddenly the color had drained from his face. But his arm wrapped around the Polish man he was infinitely more concerned about the tremors consuming Feliks' body. "Feliks?" He whispered, trying not to draw too much attention until he knew what was going on.

But Feliks seemed blind to the world – save for the white haired man in front of him staring with those deep red eyes so intensely at Feliks would later swear that his heart had actually stopped for the time that their eyes locked.

Gilbert didn't say a word.

He hadn't wanted to see Feliks right out of the gate. In fact he had crossed his fingers and hoped that he'd be able to sneak in before the meeting was formally started and talk with the nations of interest one on one – before the crowd came in.

But sneaking past the guards had been a royal bitch.

_Gilbert...Beilsm- hey. Your names on the do-not-enter list! You can't go up there!"_

_"What? When the hell did that start?"_

_"According to the chart...1939?"_

Oh yeah.

_Gilbert looked away as the man frowned. "Well well. I know I have white hair and all but are you calling me an old man?"_

_"N-no sir." The guard stammered, searching the data-base again. "It really does say that someone named Gilbert Beilschmidt is not allowed on that floor. Ever. In fact the note says "not even if the building were burning because most likely it would be his fault."."_

_The Prussian shrugged. "Fine. Whatever." _

_Turning his back, he waited for the clerk to return to his computer with a puzzled look before deftly reaching over the counter, snatching a key and bolting for an elevator only to be clotheslined by a brick wall of a security officer named "Peaches". _

_Of course after he practically tossed the guy like he was a frisby they called it a day. Or called for backup. _

Which reminded Gilbert, he better make this quick.

"I said," Arthur interjected into his thoughts – his voice sounding like he was mere seconds from flooding the room with a profanity titalwave. "What are you doing Gilbert? Last I checked this floor was off limits to the likes of you – for very obvious reasons I might add."

Gilbert snorted, taking a seat in a vacant chair. "Gott. It was _one little fire_ Britain! And yeah, your doorman told me all about the ban on my awesome but it's kind of important."  
Not wanting any ( more ) trouble so early in the day Ludwig tried fruitlessly to glare his brother out of the chair.

"Gilbert!" He started sternly. "While I would very much like an explanation as to your recent behavior it will have to wait. We have a meeting in which we need to discuss important international business so you must go home and wait for me."

"What am I, your wife?"

"Gilbert-"

"Mach keinen Scheiss, Ludwig."

Ludwig paused, for the first time registering the silently threatening look on his brothers face. It had been a long time since he'd heard that low and ominous tone - been treated like a child by his normally irresponsible relation. But he knew that look, no matter how long it had been. It was quite plainly telling him to keep his mouth shut until the 'adults' were done with business. For a second, Ludwig felt indignation boiling in him and Gilbert knew he was playing on thin ice. To the world he was just an older brother being...an older brother.

But between the two of them – it was more _complicated _then that.

Ludwig held his tongue. Something about the situation was wrong. This was more than just fun and games today. Crossing his arms Ludwig moved to the side, as his did so catching Roderich's eye as the man stood – still a bit stunned – across from him. The look between them was plain enough. Neither of them knew what the hell was going on with the hot-tempered albino.

Now turning his attention completely to the pair at the door Gilbert waved them in. "Take a seat. I'll just be a second and then I'll get the hell out of here."

Feliks growled under his breath but smirked outwardly. "Listen to you? As if."

"Really?" Gilbert questioned, a mischievous glint in his eye that caused yet another shiver to race down Poland's spine. "'Cause you're not on the chopping block today, blondie. Quite to the contrary – I've got a score to settle with a few other 'illustrious' nations in here." He paused a moment to survey the room. "Yep. I've got a bone to pick with you – England, America, Russia, Australia, and yeah, you too France." And with a final glance at the nation no one noticed he nodded. "And you're on my shit list too, pal. The only one I'm not madder than hell with right now is China – and that's because he mainly fought the last war out of self defense and because you three asses made him."

"Is this any time to start this Gilbert?" Roderick finally spoke up, leaning against the table with arms crossed as he glowered at his old frenemy. "And you do realize that _everyone_ barring us fought that war out of self defense, do you not? I hate to admit my role in such things but we **did** start it that time."

"Perfect time Roddy." Gilbert smirked, tousling his silver hair and handily ignoring everything else Roderich had said. "I was going to be nice and talk to all of these guys one on one to vent my frustrations – but no. This might actually be more cathartic for me after all. I get to state my peace right in front of the whole damn world!"

With that, Gilbert got up and moved to the doorway – causing Feliks and Toris to keep their distance and choose a seat on the opposite end of the table, somewhere between Belgium and Antonio. Realizing nothing he could say or do would stop his brother now Ludwig took the vacated chair, Roderick sitting beside him. In moments the two were whispering furiously to one another.

Gilbert let them. They'd know what his game was in a few seconds anyway. "Alright. Now _I'LL _bring this world conference to order, ke~se. And if you object – well tough shit I'm doing it anyway!"

"You can't just take over a meeting!" Alfred yelled as he roughly deposited his hamburger on the table, pointing at the Prussian. "You're not even a nation anymore so your vote doesn't count!"

A few more knowledgeable nations flinched, eyes turning to Gilbert whose smile became something best described as 'psychotic'.

"Oh...I was wondering who my first victim would be. Thanks for stepping up to the plate America. I knew I could count on you to open your big mouth first and think never."

Alfred flushed. "Oh yeah? And what are you going to do? Annex me?"

"Don't tempt me, kiddo." Gilbert snapped, his smile slipping a hint. "But first – I wonder if you're even worth annexing. What with your corrupt government and all. I guess it must be easier to talk the talk of a big hero than to walk the walk. It would explain your abysmal human rights history."

For a moment there was a pause – a hush of stunned silence as Alfred stood with his mouth open, eyes scrunched in confusion. Finally he bleated out a faint, "What?"

"Oh. You thought you'd covered it up huh? Not good enough, kid. You gotta bury corpses a lot deeper than that for them to stay down."

"What are you even talking about?" Arthur fumed, every bit as flustered as Alfred now that the hamburger scarfing oaf was under the gun. Arthur glared at Gilbert but was more surprised by the nervous look on Alfred's face. He was sweating with an anquished expression, not at all his normal arrogant self. The nation tried a placating smile. "Uh...hey, Prussia? I'm sorry about what I said...just calm down, okay?"

"Okay. No. Don't think I will, America. I'm actually looking forward to showing the world how two-faced you really are. I tell ya, it's been a long time coming!"

"I said," Arthur finally yelled, losing his temper as he noticed Alfred verging on tears. "What is this all about? I know the lad's had some rough spots in his history – we all have. But that's no reason to go treating him as if he were dirt beneath your feet!"

Gilbert cocked his head to the side with a smile. "O' really? 'Cause that's what Ludwig and I said after we surrendered."

The Englishman flushed and turned away, knowing where the conversation would turn next.

"Why don't you tell the rest of the class what you said after that. Go on. Don't be shy."

"I don't want..."

"What? You don't want to?" His inquisitor questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Then I'll do it then." Gilbert announced, his voice lowering to a growl.

"You said; _"Don't you dare put us on the same level as you. You are a foul beast that must and will soon be destroyed. For you to even breath the same air as me is nauseating."_

At this Arthur took his seat, his eyes focused on the table.

"Did I remember it just right?" Gilbert asked, voice mocking as he crossed his arms and leaned against the heavy table. "I bet I did. After you told us those words they just kept bouncing around in my head for years. Gott. Do you know what you sounded like, _sir_ England?"

At this Gilbert's face grew serious. "You sounded just like _us_ during the war. Eager to draw 'dirty' blood. Well congratulations – you got half of your wish. I'm dead as a nation. I bet you're real sorry you didn't off my brother too."

"That's enough!" Alfred yelled, now positively livid.

You could diss Alfred F. (Funky Fresh) Jones but to touch _his_ ( don't EVER tell him that ) England? Oh hell no.

"Now listen here." Alfred growled out, startling several nations beside him.

Gilbert bit back a laugh as he watched Alfred's fellow countries squirm. The poor Italian brothers looked like they were going to wet themselves – Antonio didn't look much better. In fact only Ivan didn't look afraid; merely mildly concerned as he glanced from Alfred to Gilbert with increasing frequency. Both Natalya and Yekaterina took the opportunity to put their big strong brother between them and the glaring nation.

Alfred had started to move by that time though, rapidly approaching Gilbert who bravely stood his ground. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but if you think you're going to come in here and mess with me you're wrong!" Alfred hissed as he closed the gap between them, only being stopped by Ludwig as the man stood in his way.

"Move. I'm going to teach that loudmouth of yours a lesson!"

"What are you going to do to me, America?" Gilbert questioned, a sneer in his voice. "After looking at your file I can only imagine."

Alfred frowned, his anger abated only by confusion. "File?"

Gilbert stepped forward and threw a manila folder from his briefcase down on the table. "Yeah, mister hero – savior of the world. Your FILE."

The confused German happened to glance down, looking over the stamped folder. "Operation Paperclip? What is this- wait. Brother you're not going into this here!" Ludwig spun around, no longer needing to hold America back as the nation was staring in abject horror at the folder on the table – as if it might open a portal to hell right in front of everyone. "I know what happened, there is no need to go into it here!"

Gilberts eyes hardened. "You _knew_?"

Ludwig looked away for a moment. "I...I was told much later. And even if I had known...you know that neither of us were in any position to prevent it from happening." He tried to give an apologetic look. Gilbert wasn't entirely calmed but he no longer glared with rage.

"Yeah." The albino grumbled. "We were both so fucked up we couldn't have done shit. Don't you think it's a little sad though? That out of all our 'secret plans' THAT was the one that worked – even if it was in an ass-backwards way."

"Prussia." A voice from the back of the conference room spoke up. It was Feliks, still a bit shaky but now brave enough to question the hooligans control over the meeting. "And like, what does this have to do with anything?" He asked, keeping his temper in check.

He hated it...the longer that man stood there the more the little flashes of his nightmares surfaced, coming back to strangle him even though he was finally awake. Unless this too was just a long nightmare.

That thought terrified him.

So he rose up, determined to kick the Prussian out himself if necessary. "Like, why the hell would we care about this stuff anyway?"

For a moment the white haired intruder stared; then laughed. Not his normal mocking 'ke-se' but a deep anguished laugh tinged with a bitterness. And when he was finally done he looked Feliks dead in the eye – making sure he had the mans undivided attention.

"But Poland. Aren't you just a little bit curious to find out where all the scientists that butchered your people went? Where did they go after little America here found them?"

That sensation of sinking crept in again – the feeling that there was someone behind him ready to strike while his back was turned. Feliks looked over toward Alfred who had stopped in his tracks. The young nations hands were tight, clenched until his knuckles turned white and his face contorted into an expression of pain that only a few nations had ever seen on the proud country before.

"I-I didn't know what they were doing."

Gilbert leaned over the table. "Bitte? I didn't hear. What was that?"

"I said I didn't know~" Alfred gulped. "I didn't know they were doing that...no one knew. It was top secret."

"Bullshit." Gilbert whispered acidly. "Stop lying."

"I said we didn't know!"

"Oh, so **America's** government is so slick that it can hide atrocities from it's people and they will never find out what you really are – but wait. Didn't you say that was impossible? Wasn't that your mantra during the war?"

"It was different!" Alfred yelled, slamming his hands on the table. "You were murdering people – it's impossible to hide the numbers!"

"It was under orders!" Gilbert snapped back just as ferociously. "You didn't just go around telling people that you worked at a place where people were slaughtered! It was the highest level of security! The government didn't want _any_ civilian to know what was going on! We had _Generals_ in the dark! Yet you say _you_ hid it from even your _president_ and expect me to believe you?"

"You were killing innocent people!" Alfred snapped back.

"And you were using your own citizens as lab rats!" Gilbert snarled before taking a deep breath. "How many of _your_ people died for that America? How many of the children of your allies died to get rid of the monsters that lurked in my country for good – only for you to decide that a little bit of white out and a new lease on life was close enough! You put your own citizens – at least the ones you deemed 'inferior' through hell and at the hands of _our_ scientists that you hired after the war no less!"

Alfred jerked back.

There had been a few surprised gasps the moment Gilbert had finished. Alfred shouldn't have been surprised – he had worked so hard to keep this quiet after all. Even when he found out, he'd tried to cover it up. Like a child covering up a mistake they'd made and were too embarrassed to admit to. His kids had done something unforgivable...but he didn't have the heart to punish them. They only wanted to help in their naive way...

That's what he told himself. They'd just wanted to help so much. They weren't evil. They weren't.

"What. What did you just say, Prussia?"

More than a few dozen eyes stared at the speaker – the normally bubbly blond haired man that was now looking upon his old nemesis with an expression torn between despair and pain. "What did you just say? Did you just say...America hired...Nazi scientists? Did I hear that right?"

Gilbert sighed, straightening from the table. For a moment he considered sliding the folder across the conference table and letting the man read for himself. He might not believe it hearing it from him after all. But he'd feel like a coward for that. Someone had to speak the truth.

"Ja." Running a hand through his hair he sighed again. Where the hell was Gil-bird anyway?

"During the war...our boss was adamant that we'd win so he wouldn't allow any contingency plans. No backup's, no way out. That was just another way he fucked us over...but in secret a group of officials came up with a list. The list was made up of scientists from all over the Reich who were too valuable to lose. However;"

He jerked his head toward the still shell-shocked blond. "little America there got his hands on it and started arresting them; which might have been a good thing if he had stuck to that 'democracy and justice' crap he keeps spouting. As it was, his government decided that the scientists might be useful – after all, they built the rockets that gave _England _hell,"

He watched Alfred flinch at the information. "And there was the matter of the experimental data that had to be interpreted and analyzed – only the people who ran the tests would know the methods used to get the results shown. So instead of throwing them in prison to rot they changed their papers and gave them jobs in the good 'ol United States so that they could beat the real bad guys – the commies. Of course that meant letting them continue human experimentation over there but as long as no one found out I guess they figured the ends justified the means." Gilbert gave a disgruntled snort. "So yeah, Amerika. You're fucking welcome for NASA. Nice to know that Nazi's and good old American can-do can get a man on the moon."

During Gilberts rant the shell shocked nation had been standing silently.

Alfred didn't know what to do – normally he loved being the center of attention, but not like this. Not with so many people looking at him with disappointment in their eyes – or disgust. He wanted to say he was sorry, that really he personally hadn't known. But he had known after the fact...

Feliks shook his head, stunned. "You mean...the guys that did this to my people...you HIRED them? Knowing who they were?"

The mans tone was heartbreaking. Alfred hadn't wanted this – not at all.

"What were you thinking? No! You weren't were you! Didn't any of these guys pay for what they did! That's, like, utter CRAP!"

"Poland!" Alfred pleaded. "I said I didn't know! My kids did this – they kept it from the President!"

"For once I must agree with the Prussian." Francis spoke up, eyeing Alfred cautiously. "I find it hard to believe that you did not know. Furthermore, I cannot believe that your children would do such a thing. Do you know how long it took us to track some of these abominable men down?" Francis admonished – remembering just how many seemingly dead-ends his own children had painstakingly patched together to build leads good enough to try war-criminals on. "You were busy employing them – I for one can only believe that had I raised you such a thing would never have occurred." He added, raising Arthurs ire.

"How could you?" Feliks yelled. "I can't even tell you how totally furious I am with you!" Emerald eyes flashing he looked back toward Gilbert. He hated him, he really did.

The way he looked, the way he held himself – everything turned his stomach sour. But right now there were bigger fish to fry.

"Prussia." Feliks called out, deadly serious. "You, like, said that America hired the scientists because they had valuable information. What information was that? Was it just rocketry?"

As he watched Gilberts somber expression he bit his lip.

Maybe if it was just the rocket scientists he could understand._ After all, if America didn't find them Russia would have. _He consoled himself.

"Many of them were. But others were experimental scientists. Biologists, psychologists, doctors."

There. Feliks understood it all now.

"Give me the file."

"Wait!" Alfred yelped – too late as the papers had gone skittering across the table top the moment Feliks had asked, Gilbert not hesitating an instant to give him the information.

Deep down Gilbert knew that Feliks would ask for it. He'd known if from the moment he had read the first line on MK-ULTRA himself and found out exactly where all that Nazi brainpower had been directed. It was like a train wreck – there was no un-seeing the horrors in those black and white pages."

"Feliks calm down!" Arthur intervened, trying to regain order only to have the Pole snub him, opening the file. There were a few bold sections under America's name: Operation Paperclip, MK-ULTRA, Project – Artichoke. "Which project did he use those monstrous bastards in?"

"All of them." Gilbert responded flatly.

Feliks looked up, nearly giving himself whiplash the action was so quick. "All of them? There are, like, at least five projects in here!"

Gilberts silence was as good as an affirmation, causing his eyes to bore harshly into the American.

France interrupted. "Perhaps America was not allowing them to continue as they had been before. Though I find it disgraceful and disappointing that he would hire them in the first place, is it not possible that he merely extracted information from them?"

"Is it possible that he let Nazi scientists continue to experiment on people to find the perfect torture methods to use on POW's? Yeah. I'm pretty damn sure it's possible." Gilbert commented, waving at the file. "It's all there – whatever the star-spangled jackass didn't destroy. A full investigation is damn near impossible – we only have this much because someone filed it in the wrong spot."

"Feliks." A soft voice from his side questioned, causing him to look at his oldest friend curiously for a moment. The brunette had a pleading look about him, as if he didn't want this to go any further for fear of where it might lead them. "Do you really...really have to know? I mean, I'm sure all of this is only here because it was de-classified right? And this was years ago! How will it change things for us now?"

For a moment, Feliks paused with his hand tracing the sentences before him.

"Says here, they only stopped in the 70's. And only because they got found out. That was only forty years ago. On top of that there's this page here – look at it!" He pointed to a grouping of papers detailing KUBARK. "He put this shit in TRAINING MANUALS for his CIA guys to use so they could torture people!"

"But again – how long ago-"

"It's from 2007 Liet!" With that he threw another glare Alfred's way. "Guantanamo totally makes more sense now...despite all his assurances that it was some rogue soldiers I bet it was just 'business as usual' for him. A lot of these people – the ones who suffered are still alive and suffering Liet." At this he gave his friend a calm, but deeply questioning look. "So it's 'okay' just because he said he wasn't doing this any more? When was 'okay I've stopped torturing you now' ever been good enough?"

After that his friend remained quiet, his own feelings coming more in line with Felik's reasoning.

Arthur rounded on Gilbert. "Is that the sole reason you came here? To cause trouble? Haven't you anything better to do than waste time tearing open old wounds?"

"Nope." Gilbert snorted. "I'm not a nation anymore, remember. You made sure of that didn't you England? I've got all the time in the world now." The Prussians tone darkened. "Besides. You were so happy to get rid of _me_ and put Ludwig under the gun. Bet that made you feel like you were back in your imperial days didn't it?"

"Listen here you bloody wanker." Arthur spat, threatening to come to blows with his antagonist. "You stopped being a nation after the first war. We only made it official after the second."

"Yeah. You overturned every Nazi law _except that one_. Thanks for nothing asshole!"

"So help me if you don't shut that trap of yours-"

"You'll what? Use your spy network to shut me up? Or rather, use Poland's spy network and keep all the glory for yourself."  
Arthur paused, now finding himself on thin ice. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I do."

Breathing a little faster, the suddenly on the spot nation turned to face Feliks, desperately trying to keep a neutral face despite the nations livid gaze. With emerald eyes boring into the Englishman, Feliks continued. "I know. Because I've like only been asking for_ those_ files for years."

Arthur stiffened. "Now is not the time, Poland. I have told you repeatedly that I destroyed all files relating to the AK."

"Yeah. I know. I still want them."

"I just said they've all been destroyed!" Arthur repeated nervously, a flush coming to his face. This time it was Alfred who looked confused.

"AK? What the heck is that? Is it like an AK-47?"

Ivan perked up a bit at the sound of his native weapons name. He was still very proud of his kids for that one...

"Armia Krajowa. The Polish underground Army." Ludwig finally answered. He turned away for a moment seeing as many eyes were now focused on him – mostly ones capped by heavy black brows.

"Germany, don't-"

"It's the truth Britain. Whether you like it or not. Though I'm loathe to get into this debate." Towards Alfred he explained. "The AK was a Polish resistance army. They gave us quite a bit of trouble during the war." Ludwig sighed when Feliks tossed his head with a smirk.

_Damn right they did. _Feliks thought proudly.

Ludwig continued. "In one particular case they exposed a rocket development and test site named Peenemünde. They passed the information on to British Intelligence who used it to coordinate an RAF strike on the compound – but they overwhelmingly struck the prisoner of war camps nearby, which were mostly filled with the Polish POW's who had supplied the information."

"That is not how it happened!" Alfred glared at Ludwig. "We received that information from the Danes!" He tried to cover, only to see the nation of Denmark do his best to avoid his gaze. "Sure you did, England."

The nations looked once again at Feliks – who now had an unnervingly calm look on his face. "Don't worry. It's not the first time you've stabbed my people in the back. I just wish you wouldn't twist the knife so much next time."

Abashed, Arthur stammered. "P-Poland..."

The other nation sighed, lowering his head and placing his hands in his pockets. "You know...this has been, like, a really shitty day for me. I didn't sleep good last night thanks to the red-eyed jerk over there."

Gilbert frowned, not entirely sure how his awesomeness kept Feliks awake all night. For a moment Francis raised an eyebrow but upon Feliks' withering glare decided to keep his mouth shut.

"Then I get here and have all of this-" He waved his arms at the documents. "Thrown on me without any warning. I mean. Guys we totally don't have our act together. We're supposed to be nations working together. Then why is so much of our history about clawing at each others necks?" Feliks sighed. "I'm totally sick of this childishness. Everyone needs to know everything, NOW. So we can get on with our impossibly irritating lives."

"I don't think that's such a good idea." Alfred spoke up, looking a bit sick. "I mean...who knows what's in that briefcase of his?"

Gilbert smirked. Wouldn't he like to know?

"Besides." Alfred continued, gaining steam. "I don't know if you remember or not – but there's some sort of ghost army running around your country right now dude."

"Of course I, like, remember, idiot."

"And who would be behind it?" Arthur questioned as the rooms eyes turned toward their Prussian interloper. "And how do we know this isn't just a distraction to keep us from working as a united front? It's the sort of thing I'd expect from a nation whose last acts were bombing civilians as a scare tactic and trying to create a society where one race was inferior to another – considered not even worthy of intermingling for fear of 'tainting' pure blood."

The moment Arthur said it he could have kicked himself. It wasn't the look on Felik's face.

It was the look on the faces of his two former colonies, and the memory of his own imperialist youth.

_Damn...I've gone and done it now...__ And of course, Prussia would be willing to give a history lesson on that wouldn't he? Well it's all ancient history. They've matured and outlawed all that foolish nonsense._

"Let me see...Jim Crow laws of segregation and the White Australia plan." Gilbert nodded. "Yeah, I guess we do have your former charges to thank for the little fiasco known as WW2, England."

Arthur scowled, not seeing the connection. "And exactly how?"

Gilbert sulkily jerked his thumb at Alfred. "Well genius one over here had a substantial part of his scientific community trying to prove that the black man was inferior to the white one. The word 'Eugenics' ring a bell, England? We learned it all from brat one. And brat two over there-" He pointed to Australia who had been doing his best to stay out of sight.

"-actually put it to use. What was that...the White Australia plan? Some lofty goal to -and I quote – "Breed out the black" from half-caste kids. Nice touch, stealing them from their parents and forcing them into servitude. If they were lucky the girls might be married to the guy that raped them – just so that their more socially acceptable little kids could be taken care of. Hell, you even figured out that you _only_ needed four generations to get rid of any 'undesirable' traits. We didn't even get that far! Then again, we got the shit kicked out of us after a few years. You guys sure were persistent with that though – kept it going well until the 70's!" After a pause he added softly. "No wonder those people despise you."

The nation of Australia flinched, looking away. "We nations are at the mercy of our citizens..."

"There you guys go again." Gilbert laughed sarcastically. "Oh pity us – it's not our fault our bosses suck! It's not our fault our citizens are bigots. Yeah. Let me tell you something – kid. If that line didn't work for me I'm sure as hell not letting it work for you! Although I guess it's not entirely your fault that you two turned out to be bigoted little shits – after all, England trucked people all the way in from Africa to fight for you. Shame about them being too dark to participate in the celebratory parade though after the fact – I'm sure when they got home they could just organize one for themselves. 'Congratulations on fighting and winning a war for people who think you're too backwards to run your own country!' And don't worry about any resentment from India either, I'm sure they don't mind their kids dying for your battles. After all it's all within the Empire right? No harm no foul. Besides, I bet you'll thank them...eventually."

With that Gilbert snapped open the briefcase. "I think it's been a very informative meeting so far hasn't it? We've learned that England got secrets from Polish freedom-fighters and returned the favor by bombing them and the enemy out of existence and then pretending they got the goods all on their own. Little America over here claimed to be fighting for justice and peace while hanging anyone darker than khaki who dared look at a white person funny and running illegal medical experiments on them on the side – oh yeah and hiring war criminals so they could take care of that for him. And Australia playing the same card by trying the "Breed the black" out of little kids. And apparently both of them learned it from 'big bro' over there. Have I missed anything?"

"You said something about bombing civilians for scare tactics." A darkly glowering Ivan smiled as he reminded Gilbert. "I'm sure Japan could give us a refresher on that."

Kiku quickly looked down at the table. "I'd rather not." In fact, he was rather angry that it had been brought up. It was still a sore spot with him after all. He'd nearly lost the royal family over America's carelessness. Or cruelty. Whichever one decided to call it.

This time Matthew was grateful to be invisible. He still had trouble coming to terms with his helping in the making of that...thing. For better or worse their lots were tied together – without the quiet nations help creating the atomic bomb might have been impossible. Not even he could hazard a guess as to whether or not the nuclear cold war that followed would have been.

Alfred watched his new-found friend bite back his anger politely as he always did and it pained him.

"I know I've done wrong by him. I am sorry. I've said so many times." Looking beyond the Japanese man to his cold war nemesis he leveled a chilling glare on him that would freeze hell solid.

"So you still have a grudge huh? Can't you just be a gracious loser?"

Ivan's eyes narrowed a second before he spoke, ""_If we see that Germany is winning we ought to help Russia, and if Russia is winning we ought to help Germany, and that way let them kill as many as possible."_" I believe we have your former President Harry Truman to thank for that little bit of wisdom." With a snort Ivan added. "I find it laughable that the nations you are trying so hard to befriend now are the ones you villified little more than 70 years ago. Your memory is far too short, _Amerika_, to make amends in such a way."

With that the large nation leaned back in his seat, arms crossed as he waited for a rebuttal that was slow in coming.

"That has nothing to do with Japan." Alfred finally responded. "And he and I _are_ on the road to becoming close – we're putting the death of those years behind us."

"Yeah. But you never admitted that the only reason you killed his civilians was to intimidate Russia." Gilbert noted. Alfred glared back at the Prussian who shrugged. "Facts don't lie. Besides, I've seen that tactic before."

"When have I ever-" Alfred started.

"America." A stern voice interrupted him and he took a step back from the source –Ludwig, who watched him coldly with his hands folded as they rested on the table, his lips lightly touching them. "Do not say what I think you are going to. I still have the burn from where you _melted_ my city."

"It was war, Germany." Arthur tried to explain, once again compelled to come to the 'brat's aid. "We all did unsightly things, but we fought fairly and within the code of the law."

Arthur had barely finished his sentence when Ludwig jumped out of his seat. "I beg to differ, _Britain_. When last I checked bombing a strictly civilian population with intent to kill and terrorize as many as possible is most definitely _against_ the Geneva Convention. And may I remind you that the bombs dropped on Coventry were NOT incendiaries. We did _not_ firebomb you Britain...though we well could have had we chosen to."

This last was added ominously, a prickling reminder to the proud island nation that he had not been the only entity with the ability to turn a city and its people to ashes.

Arthur swallowed slightly, at a bit of a loss. "I told him...that we shouldn't do that. You know how humans are – they do whatever foolish things they will."

Ludwig nodded. "Ja. I know all too well the failings of men. I know that while the scientists from my country who designed the rockets that bombed yours were put on trial for war crimes none of your soldiers who murdered thousands of civilians were ever tried." With a glance to his right he added. "Or yours America. Hiroshima and Nagasaki should have been enough. Or perhaps your bad habit of bombing civilian towns at the slightest sign of resistance after the war – also in direct defiance of the Geneva convention. Or should I instead remind you of the prisoners of war you killed without just cause or trial – simply to be rid of them."

Once Alfred looked thoroughly shamed Ludwig sighed. He'd really been wanting to say that for quite a while...but he could never work up the courage. He had been _afraid_ to say it – afraid he'd be accused of reverting back to evil ways and sometimes he felt as if he could never be trusted again.

But now, after the weight of it left his shoulders he felt bolder – at least enough to say one last thing. "I realize, I have done a lot in my past that is disgraceful. However; being brought to task for it has in many ways helped me. I have realized the mistakes I have made and to this day work to correct them. However;" He glared at several nations. "I feel angered by the fact that many other nations who have committed grievous crimes as well have escaped punishment by claiming that what they did was just and necessary. Killing civilians is not necessary to winning a war – England, America, and you as well Russia."

At this a previously smirking Ivan suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Is there something you'd like to say, Germany?"

"Only that I find it appalling that when those who committed war-crimes in my country stood trial they were judged by ones who had committed war-crimes against people and the nations of others from yours." The German glanced around the room. He could see the faces of those who had suffered under Russian advances – led by a ruthless ruler.

He knew it wasn't so much the system that had failed them, but that unreliable element of government.

Humanity.

"I doubt Poland has forgotten your crimes – personally I find it greatly to his credit that he did not for an instant believe your lies nor deny the truth." At this Ivan remained silent, violet eyes holding a deep upwelling of resentment towards the German addressing him as he treaded a thin line between wanting to argue and knowing he couldn't.

"I think it's about time, Russia, that you take responsibility for what happened at Katyn – instead of insisting it was us. That lie no longer works on the nations of the world."

For a while a silence persisted in the room before Ludwig continued. "No. Poland has not forgotten how you were back then. Nor have Lithuania, Estonia or Latvia. Nor even your sisters."

At this a true expression of sadness flitted across Ivan's face. He really did love his sisters...so to treat them so badly... "My boss..."

Gilbert growled, moving forward again. "Ja, ja. Your boss made you do it. But why is it no good when _we_ say it?" The man wondered aloud, silently indicating his brother and cousin. "America isn't responsible for the actions of his people, but his people somehow aren't responsible for his actions either. Neither are Britains or Frances, or Russia's, or China's no matter what the crime is. But Japan, Germany, Austria and I. We're fucking fair game aren't we? Don't you want to know why?"

Now the Prussian leaned heavily on the table, as if about to divulge a very important secret. With all eyes on him he gave a wry grin.

"Because we lost."

* * *

**Authors Note:**

Do the research. Google any of the following:

Operation Paperclip

Katyn Forest

MK-ULTRA

Firebombing of Dresden

White Australia Plan

Firebombing of Tokyo

Tuskegee Experiments

Hiroshima and Nagasaki

Nigerian soldiers in WW2

Jim Crowe Laws / Racism in America

Project Artichoke

KUBARK ( School of the Americas )

I'm only focusing on the Allies ( and most especially picking on poor Alfred here ) because war-crimes committed by Allied forces in WW2 are frequently downplayed or shoved under the rug while Axis war-crimes are for the most part well known and documented – especially in the United States where the history of WW2 is still pretty much being taught as "Everyone was losing until we ( the Heroes ) jumped in and saved the day and brought freedom and justice to all."

(Unlike in Soviet Russia where you'd be learning that Truman quote by heart.)

SPEAKING OF WHICH ...for anyone who cares.

_HISTORY LESSONS : How Textbooks From Around the World Portray U.S. History. _Dana Lindaman and Kyle Ward.

I'd Also recommend Slaughterhouse 5 by Kurt Vonnegut. A thoroughly interesting book to say the least.

And this is why that discrepancy of justice makes no sense.

_I Attacking a non-combatant civilian entity is against international law. (T)_

_II Anyone violating international law during a time of war can be held on war-crimes. (T)_

Using the chain rule of Syllogism

Conclusion:

**If any person breaks the statues of international law {Geneva Convention} during war they can be held on war-crimes.**

_I If a soldier under orders violates international law he is still liable for his actions. (T)_

_II The weight of international law overrules any lawful order given by command. (T)_

Using the same chain rule we can expand on the former rule.

Conclusion:

**If any person breaks the statues of international law – even if only obeying a direct order – during war they are liable for their actions and can be held on war-crimes.**

I Attacking a non-combatant civilian entity is against international law as outlined above.

II USAF / RAF pilots bombed a non-combatant civilian entity for 3 days, twice in Japan and at least once in Germany with two further incidents in Japan lasting for one bombing run each.

Conclusion:

Should be really obvious right about now. What does that make them liable for?

Apparently as long as you're on the winning side – nothing. The most common reason given being that since it was war the men had been exposed to things that made them irrational at times and therefore could not be held responsible for actions out of line. Or that the actions taken were only done under orders and the troops were therefore not responsible. Or that the ends justified the means.

No such excuses were made for German, Austrian, Italian, or Japanese troops however.

As per the usual, if you see any mistakes let me know. I really worked this over trying to get all of them out but I might have missed something.

If you read all of this...you're freaking awesome and thanks for putting up with my me-ness.


	7. Aftermath

"Well. That could have been worse."

Alfred glanced up at Arthur from the corner of his eye, not bothering to move from his hunched position. "Enlighten me. How so?"

"Er..." The reserved nation adjusted his tie before making a deep groan. "Look lad. I know that insufferable man brought up issues best left alone – but we know that this is in the past. You're not the nation you were back then."

With a weak chuckle Alfred asked, "So you're not at all surprised then?"

For a moment Arthur remained silent, bushy brows furrowed with thought. "There were a few things that I was not _aware_ of...however; I think of you even now as...well...someone who is close to me. For what it's worth, I do believe that you have only the best intentions at heart and that somewhere under that hamburger loving facade of yours you are in reality a kind man. So just – hey!"

From his seat on the bench Alfred smiled, eyes closed against the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Thanks. You're not such a hard-ass after all, Arthur."

Arthur sighed, reaching over ( a bit awkwardly ) to rub Alfred's shoulder. "Glad to hear it."

The soft sound of footsteps passing behind them drew their attention to Kiku who noticed and in an uncharacteristically emotional move for such a stoic nation, leveled a withering glare at the man he had recently come to call a friend. Alfred swallowed back the tears that had started to creep up again. "Hey, Kiku...I...you know how sorry I - "

"200,000, America-san. Do you know what that number represents?"

A tightness formed in Alfred's chest. He could feel it, the wrenching pain that best symbolized the distance now growing between them. "I said...I know words don't change anything."

"No." Kiku nodded, face severe. "Actions do. America-san?" He asked, now turning fully toward the young nation, dark eyes deep and resentful. "What actions have you done to make up for such a horrendous act as to burn 200,000 thousand of my people alive? And please keep in mind – this is not counting those abominable weapons you used on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This is just for Tokyo and the many other cities you erased from my land."

Alfred stood, eyes cast to the side. "I...I do feel bad about everything. More than I can say."

"Do you?" Kiku wondered, a clearly disapproving tone creeping into his voice. He stepped forward – just out of reach but close enough that he could look Alfred squarely in the eye if the young man dared to meet his gaze. "Obviously not enough to ban the use of incindiaries. You refused to sign the treaty in 1980 that many of us put our names and honor to, America-san. You still keep and intend to use those civilian murdering weapons."

"I won't use them!" Alfred denied loudly, hoping he could convince Kiku that he was sincere.

"Then why keep them?" Kiku countered, holding his breath for the right answer.

"For...defense..."

With that, Japan walked away.

* * *

In an isolated corner of the conference floor Feliks stood – Toris as usual by his side – staring out of the large picture window over the Berlin skyline; for one of the few times in his life at a loss for words. Outside the sun rose toward noon veiled behind thick snow clouds, the glimmering white flakes sparkling in the anemic sunlight. Below, the city moved on – a vision of the twenty-first centuries promise.

_It looks nothing like it did that time. I suppose I had been looking at it through a dark lens so long I haven't really seen it for itself in decades. Strange how the past can blind us to the future._

"Hey, you still up for ice cream?" Feliks wondered, his voice unusually subdued.

Toris nodded. "Sure. It's not like I have a choice right?"

Feliks suddenly laughed. "Like hell you do! Don't worry, I'll buy my own this time."

"And what about me?"

"Hm...I'll think about it."

"Ah..."

But instead of moving right away the Polish man continued to gaze over the city.

"Ah. It looks as if Prussia will be getting quite an earful tonight, да?"

Feliks jumped away from Ivan whose gaze was directed down at the street below them – as if watching something intently.

_Yeah, like I'll fall for that! But I guess...maybe a peek._

Barely aware that Toris was now clinging desperately onto his right arm, Feliks looked down on the street as well, watching with interest as he saw the form of a man with moon silver hair moving away from the building – and another with sun blond hair following him.

"I suspect that Germania may not be pleased with his brother." Ivan commented.

"Like, no duh. Can't say I blame Germany for being totally pissed." Feliks answered, for a moment furrowing his brows as he watched the two talk.

_Germania? Weirdo..._

Then looked away to find Ivan's violet eyes watching him – unreadable.

"Are you not worried?" The taller nation asked in a deceptively childlike voice.

Feliks shrugged, playing it as cool as he dared with the Russian only a few feet away. "Should I be?"

"Should you?"

"Don't do that!" Feliks snapped. "I totally don't have time for games today."

Their unwanted companion fell silent a moment before looking back down at the two. "I suppose that this meeting has been a disaster in many aspects. But there is at least some value in what has happened today. For once we were able to speak openly about many things that we have kept to ourselves. That is why I still come to these meetings. They allow me a valuable opportunity to hear what my fellow nations have to say, Да? In this way I can better understand why they do the things they do – and perhaps in time they will understand me as well."

Though he smiled softly there was little warmth in the violet eyes that seemed clouded with regret. They locked with Toris' and the Baltic nation felt a jolt of remembrance.

Then the moment was over. Ivan turned away toward the elevators and Feliks returned his attention on the street below where only Ludwig stood – staring off after something unseen on the horizon.

"I enjoy these meetings." Ivan mused as the elevator doors opened with a pleasant 'ding'. "However; I regret that our human 'bosses' are not so open as we are sometimes. They are slow in doing things that should be done quickly at times."

For a second he turned to look over his shoulder. "My apologies for that. If you don't mind I need to be going. До свидания."

Thirty-four seconds later Feliks lightly knocked his head against the window, chuckling softly – much to Toris' confusion. The blond gave a wry smirk.

"Like, what a freaking stupid way to apologize. Do it to my face next time, creep."

"I don't get it." Toris frowned. "What was he apologizing for?"

"Not apologizing faster." Feliks replied as he rolled his eyes. "At least it was a start. A very lame start but still..."

Leaning against the wall the brunette nation heaved a heavy sigh. "That's Russia. Nothing with him is straightforward."

Feliks turned his head to the side – no doubt leaving quite a smudge on the glass in the process. "And you put up with him for how long?"

"Too long." Toris shrugged before he furrowed his brow – remembering that glimpse of the past he'd experienced only a moment ago. "He's always been cryptic...as long as I've known him."

Feliks pulled away from the window. "As long as you've known him? Like, how long?"

Closing his eyes a moment, Toris allowed his mind to slip back into the past. "A long time. Did you know? That the first time we met was when he was still under the Tartar Yoke – controlled by the Golden Horde? He was as small as I was back then."

For a moment Feliks grinned. "What? Russia was little once? Like, no way! Did you ever put him in a headlock?"

"No-I'm serious! He was my size! Though it is kind of strange to think of him like that..."

Feliks listened intently as his friend continued to talk, Toris' green eyes a bit unfocused as he thought.

"I remember...a cold, beaten up, blood-covered kid like me. I remember asking if he wanted to be friends...but he said he couldn't – not then. Something about him becoming stronger before that could be possible – as if having strength was absolutely necessary to having others near you. Now I know why he said that. It just may be that in Russia's mind the only way to have friends is to capture them by force. If that was the way he was brought up then that may be the only way he knows. So even now; when Russia becomes dangerous or frightens me I see that child that I first met all those years ago and then everything that happens makes sense."

Toris focused on Feliks, their green eyes meeting. "That kid just wanted something in this world that wouldn't hurt him or try to control him – something he could cling to that would be warm instead of frigid. I think that's why he told me that day that when he was strong enough he would come for me." After this Toris shook his head. "But by the time he was strong enough...I'd forgotten all about that promise and circumstance forced me on a different path."

"You mean me." Feliks concluded, trying to state it as gently as possible. "I'm what made you forget about the little boy lost in the snow, right?" With a sigh Feliks scratched his head. "Bitter much?"

"It's Russia...and therefore impossible to say."

"Man, like, what a total pain in the ass. Can't he just say what he means?"

"No."

"Like, not helpful Liet!"

Toris chuckled. "I say the same thing to myself all the time. But lets just get away for a while – what about that ice-cream after all?"

"Totally there!"

But before they left Feliks stole a last glance out the window.

No one was there.

* * *

"What exactly is the meaning of this?" Ludwig demanded as soon as he was within arguing distance of his brother.

The distance that was apparently the perfect bird-retrieval distance as well judging from the speed at which Gil-bird covered the gap and nestled back into his true companions hair.

"HEY! There's my bird! I felt like something was missing up there!"

"Other than your brain?" Ludwig growled.

Gilbert frowned. "Ow. What the hell?"

"No." The German responded, desperately trying to keep his anger in check while they were on the street. "What the hell is what _I _should be saying. Why on earth would you decide to come in and cause all of this trouble? Did you even think of how this might effect myself or Roderich? No. This could be catastrophic for both of us! Now I understand why you would want to get all of that off of your chest but couldn't you think of a better way to do it?"

"A better way?" Gilbert asked, seriously answering his brother. "Like what? Sit everyone down and talk in hushed tones about taboo things that we aren't supposed to discuss? Sure, if they'd even so much as give me the time of day." At this he scowled. "Even Francis and I haven't had a good honest conversation longer than 'good morning' since the war. And we used to kick ass together too – well..up until the Napoleonic wars anyway."

With a heavy sigh Gilbert turned away. "I know I put you in a bad position Ludwig. I'm sorry for that. And you can go ahead and tell Roderich too. But this is something I needed to do for myself. There was no way I could let people keep stomping all over my memory before I'm even dead. I mean...I know I had a bad record during that war. But in my entire history, there's been good in there somewhere too right? Should I be content to be judged solely on the basis of a fraction of my entire life?"

Glancing over his shoulder Gilbert gave a weak smile. "You understand right?"

Ludwig nodded. "Better than anyone."

Turning away again the Prussian took in a deep breath of air. He had been worried about that. "I'm glad. I hope that understanding keeps up."

As he began to walk away Ludwig sagged a bit. "Now where are you going?"

"Away."

Ludwig shrugged. "Just be back by eight or your dinner will be cold."

Gilbert stopped just an instant before replying; "That's a shame then."

It was at that moment, as he watched his brother walk away that the realization came to Ludwig.

"Gilbert. Answer me one question." He began, unsure if he wanted to venture that question or not. "Are you the one behind the invasion of Poland?"

"Nope." The man answered, his voice growing fainter with the distance.

"Do you know who is?"

The Prussians laugh echoed back through the falling snow. "You said _one_, Germany."

From there on the only sound between them was the soft crunch of ice and the dampening hush of falling white powder.

Ludwig could only have suspected as much, that his brother would leave one day. The brother he had spent so many years sharing everything with – the one who had formed him into the nation he was today and the one who had brought him from the darkness of a long captivity into the light of the new millennium. It struck him – the thought that this vision of a young man with unnaturally white hair walking through the falling snow of what had once been his capital could turn out to be the last he might ever see of his brother – his closest relative.

"Gilbert...please take care." He whispered.

He couldn't be sure if it carried – the other man now several meters away and disappearing like a ghost back into the growing veil of white – but at least it had been said.

And for the first time in several hundred years, Ludwig felt alone again.

With a final glance over the snow-covered streets he sighed, pulled his coat tighter around himself, and headed for home.

_Now what?_

He hadn't really been alone in the truest sense of the word for a very long time. The very thought of facing the world without someone at his side was more than a little intimidating. It wasn't as if he were young and naive though, he was more than knowledgeable in the workings of their complex world – even if it was so vastly different from when he had first arrived. But there were greater matters at hand, matters more important than his own impending sense of loneliness. The facts still stood that a rogue army was quickly taking over large areas of land in his neighbors country – and that any army threatening one nation may well end up threatening the others.

Looking out over his capital he watched the faces as they passed – modern day Berliners going about their daily routine and carrying on with their own personal lives. He had already seen his people suffer in the past, faces very much like these. And no matter what the cost to himself, he wanted to do all he could to make sure such pain would never befall another generation.

Glancing east he held his breath. Sometimes though, the turning of the world is beyond ones control.

* * *

"Gott you're stupid."

The man simply shrugged, causing a healthy clump of snow to fall from his shoulders. "Salvation comes in desperate hours. Have you done everything you need to?"

"Yeah. And whats with all this b-grade movie villain crap? You trying to get arrested?"

Adler glared from his spot on the bench. "My coat?"

"Ja. Take it before you freeze." Gilbert laughed. Without showing it, he watched with a hint of worry as Adler rose to his feet, the white mound that had accumulated on his head and shoulders sliding away as he moved from the park bench, leaving behind a human sized dry space surrounded by fluffy snow. Gilbert tossed the coat to the General the second he cleared away the rest of the snow. "What the hell are you up to? Keep that up and you'll catch pneumonia. That's pretty nasty. Then what'll happen to your army?"

Adler swapped out the short jacket for the pleasantly warmed long coat, shrugging as he looked back to the car. "Sorry. I was worried about some little punk giving me grief if I had happened to move an inch before he got back. If I'd known he'd do it anyway I would have gone to sleep in my car."

With a lighthearted punch Gilbert hit him in the shoulder. "Quit trying to be all tough."

After a quick smile Adler sobered. "So."

"So what?"

"You know what. How did the meeting go?"

Gilbert snorted. "Train-wreck."

"That bad."

"Yeah, that bad."

Gil-bird chirped. For a minute Adler looked around them, trying to locate the sound until with a slight jump he realized it was coming from the top of his companions head.

"Do you have a bird?"

"Damn you're rude-"

"No. I mean there is an actual bird on your head Gilbert."

Pointing at the feathered freeloader Gilbert grinned. "Yeah! Isn't he awesome? Name's Gil-bird. Oh yeah! Gil-bird, Adler. Adler this is Gil-bird."

Adler raised an eyebrow. "I see. In any case, the meeting?"

"Impatient much?" Grumbled the Prussian. "I just got back. No 'hey how's it going' or 'glad to see you'?"

"Gilbert..."

"Fine." Gilbert caved. "The meeting sucked. Well, sort of. I mean, if you count me pissing off half the world a good thing then it was a huge success. I got a lot of stuff off my chest I haven't been able to say for decades. So that was pretty cool. And Ludwig wasn't completely pissed at me – just mostly. Oh! And I think I made America cry!"

After a quick face-palm Adler sighed. "You're a one man disaster aren't you?"

"Guess so." Gilbert agreed reluctantly, scratching his neck. "But I achieved my goal, even if it was a little different from what I wanted." The man stopped, putting his hands in his pockets. "Poland was there."

Adler grew still, listening intently before prompting; "And? I'm sure he had something to say."

"I know he thinks I'm behind this. Or at least, he might be afraid I am."

With a glance around Adler questioned. "What makes you think that?"

"The way he acted. I mean, he's been really awkward around me for decades now, so that's not unusual. But this time he seemed scared and he hasn't been like that in a long time...it's out of character for him. This is a guy who will stand up to Russia if he has to – he's not one to panic easy."

"So he was a bit panicked today?"

The Prussian nodded. For a while they stood in contemplative silence, watching the snow fall around them. It was only a few minutes later that Adler broke the calm that had formed.

"Where do we go from here?"

Serious and still, Gilbert stared out over the park. "I think...we go back to base."

"Do you trust me?" Adler wondered.

He hoped that the answer would be yes, that he had somehow earned something so valuable as a nations respect.

"Hell no."

Adler sighed as he moved for the car. "Fine. Come on then. I know I'm going to get an earful for this..."

"Hey, Adler?" Gilbert asked, just a step or two behind. Instead of continuing on Adler slowed, then turned around. "Yeah?"

The nation stood firm, slowly watching the General until the nervousness inside of him was overridden by the urge to make things as clear as possible.

"I don't trust you. I don't trust your organization. And quite frankly I don't like the way you're barging through another country like this. But...I don't want to die just yet either. So I'll leave you alone – I won't interfere but that also means I won't help you either if you get into deep shit. And if you get arrested or killed it's your own damn fault. But keep this in mind;" Gilbert's voice suddenly lowered in tone, a seriousness reflected in his eyes. "I _won't_ let you do anything that would compromise me – or my name. And you're _not_ dragging Ludwig into this. He's his own nation and if you get into a fight then you've got to deal with it. Don't ask me to pull strings. And _don't_ ask me to murder people."

Moving forward Gilbert looked over the young General. "So. Is that possible? Can you do that?"

"Anything you say." Adler smiled back tiredly, the cold starting to get the best of him. He supposed that deep down he had suspected Gilbert might say something like that – in the event he decided to tag along anyway. "You're the boss."

Gilbert blinked, pointing at himself. "Wait? I'm the boss?"

It was news to him.

Adler frowned. "Yeah. Isn't the nation always the boss?"

Gilbert laughed all the way to the car, not bothering to explain to a demanding Adler what was so funny.

_I swear every time I talk to this guy I like him more!_

* * *

"No...I don't want to do that..." Feliks sighed.

The military man before him looked away sharply before returning his gaze to the blond with renewed fire. "It's not like this is a game, we don't have much choice!"

With equal fire of his own Feliks threw the paperwork away. "We're not doing it!" Moving around the heavy table he'd been sitting at he was soon uncomfortably close to the General who had quite inexplicably contracted an inability to talk. Emerald eyes flashing Feliks lit into him.

"Look. You may be a hot shot with more metal on your chest than most people have in their cars but you'd better listen to **me**, I've only been fighting tooth and nail for _centuries_ now – got that? **Centuries**. I've been through hell you can't imagine so when I say that this little plan of yours won't work don't you dare imply that it's because I don't know what the hell I'm talking about!"

After a few heavy breaths Feliks turned away. "Get out."

Heels grinding into the wooden floor the entire way the General made a fast retreat, slamming the door behind him and causing Felik's heart to jump a bit with the noise. With a heavy heart and a headache Feliks flopped onto his hotel-rooms couch, mind reeling from the days events.

"I can't, like, even begin to imagine this day getting worse. This is like, totes ridiculous. Seriously. First that jerk Prussia giving me grief – not awesome. And then this totally messed up plan from the supposed brightest minds in my army...Like, this sucks."

Staring blankly at the coffee table he tried several deep breaths to calm his nerves – realizing that might be easier done with a distraction. But he didn't want to turn on the TV for fear of stumbling across the news and getting sucked back into the drama of his own international politics. He could still feel the fighting, and he could still feel himself loosing land. The battle-line _had_ shifted north – away from his Warsaw - but it was still making progress towards his eastern border.

Feliks knew his kids were trying, it's just that something else was going on here – something he didn't know about.

So he was taking a break from thinking about the ongoing struggle. Unfortunately the only other thing that came to mind was Prussia.

"Like, damn it. This is totally ridiculous – I shouldn't have to go through this!"

**Prree~ Prree~**

Snatching up his cell-phone the Polish man sighed. "Yeah? Who's there?"

"Poland? Um...this is me, Germany. We need to talk."

"Like, wtf."

The voice on the other end coughed nervously.

_Good to hear someones having a shitty day too._ Feliks mused.

"Look," Ludwig began. "I know it's late – and besides that we haven't really...been on the best of terms lately. Far from it I suppose. However; this is not the time for us to allow our past dealings to cloud our judgment. You are in danger, Poland."

The nation tensed, pressing his back harder into the leather couch. "Is that a threat?"

A louder series of panicked sputtering was Felik's answer.

"Nein! Absolutely not! I have no desire for your land! I'm actually trying to warn you...but...I must admit that a call from me must sound suspicious. I cannot blame you for that."

Feliks exhaled, slowly sinking back down into the soft cushions. "Well. If you're not threatening me, then I guess I should say thanks for the warning. Or rather, I, like, kinda already guessed that. I mean, it's not like there was totally a phantom militia running around my top half right now or something."

"Er...ja..I understand. However; I have reason to believe that this may - "

"Is it Prussia?"

On the far end of the phone Ludwig grew silent, staring at the wall while he desperately tried to come up with an answer.

_Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know. I think he might. I hope he's not._ Ludwig's mind raced, unable to latch onto a proper response.

"I can't dismiss it as a very likely possibility."

After a moments pause came the verdict. "Good enough for me. What do you know?"

"Actually..." Ludwig started, anxiously looking around the crowded lobby of the hotel. "Is there a chance we could speak about this in private? I know it may be an inconvenience-"

"You mean alone."

Ludwig spared a second to grit his teeth.

_I was afraid of this..._

"Yes. I would like to speak to you alone. I...understand...if you don't want to. But I don't like discussing this on the phone. Do you mind?"

After what seemed like an endless pause Felik's voice came back on the line.

"No. Where are we meeting?"

Ludwig sighed with relief, hoping all the while he was doing the right thing.

When Feliks hung up he took a moment to stare at the cell-phone in his hand. He'd agreed to something he shouldn't have. He was going somewhere he had no business being to meet someone he should never, ever be alone with again.

_It's just a talk...after all he can't risk getting on the bad side of the E.U. , right? Yeah. _

* * *

**Authors Note:**

Poland: What? You can't end it there!

_Yes. I can. See, just did._

Poland: Like, that sucks...I hate when that happens.

I know I should have gotten this up sooner for those who might have skipped the last one but...work...and school...and more work.

And site not letting me update. -.-;

~sigh~

Again, thanks for reading! I am working on the next exciting ( maybe ) installment as we speak!


	8. Risky Business

He didn't know why he thought this was a good idea.

Maybe he could just go home and eat some Pocky? But he knew that up those steps in the overly ritzy hotel lobby that Ludwig would be waiting. And as much as he hated to go in, he just had the feeling that not showing up at all would be a huge mistake for many reasons.

1) He might not get valuable information he could really use.

2) It just wasn't a good idea to stand up Ludwig.

Not that Feliks thought the German would do anything about it. (He hoped) Slyly, he tapped his side just under the heavy down-feather winter jacket he wore. ( a totally fabulous red color, duh )

_Still have little baby?_ He wondered as his fingers just glanced the sidearm._ Yeah, still there._

For a moment he tried to calm his nerves, get in touch with his inner happy place. But the hustle of a Saturday night in the capital made that impossible. There were too many people and it grated on him. Every pair, every face that walked by only reminded him of the wide population gap between east and west. In Germany there were nearly twice as many people in Poland - despite both nations being very similar in land area.

The very thought turned Feliks' mood sour.

_Do you have any idea how lonely a half empty house is?_ The blond thought bitterly.

But personal emotions aside, Feliks was here for risky business.

Somewhere in that hotel lobby Ludwig was waiting for him. He had something that Feliks wanted and if that meant he had to spend some time with the last person on earth he wanted to - then so be it. If it were for his kids he could do anything. So trudging up the stairs he stuffed his hands in his pockets, shrugged against the cold winter wind and went inside.

The lobby was warm and bright, still festively decorated - though not with Christmas ornaments which had been removed already but simple, universal winter motifs. A smell of hot chocolate and coffee from the entry level cafe tickled his nose and almost made him smile.

_Okay. I, like, might totally rag on him...but Ludwig does make some totally good chocolate..._

"Feliks?" Ludwig called out; almost as if he were unsure the man had actually come as agreed.

To be honest, Ludwig had half expected him to go home and eat Pocky.

But true to his word Feliks had shown up, looking a little nervous but otherwise calm. Nevertheless, Ludwig approached carefully. He knew that the Polish man could be an expert at hiding his true feelings if he needed to - having seen it many times before in their dealings.

"I'm glad you came." The taller nation explained with a civil smile - trying to follow Feliciano's advice about looking less scary. He had read somewhere that smiles help.

Feliks looked back toward the cafe. "Yeah."

"So...I suppose we should get down to business then?" Ludwig suggested, seeing the nervousness starting to show in the other man.

Feliks nodded. "Yeah. So are we like, going in there?"

"No."

At this the smaller nation frowned, turning his attention back to the German. "No? So where's it gonna be? I don't have like, all night."

"The restaurant for our meetings should be free. They're still open and it's a more secure location for discussion between...people like us."

With a forlorn look at the cafe Feliks shrugged, which Ludwig took to mean agreement.

"Then let's go right away."

"Yeah." The other nation sighed with yet another shrug.

The two made their way to the hotel elevator, ensuring they stepped onto a completely vacant one.

Once inside Feliks found himself uncomfortably too close to a nation that he really didn't want to be even remotely close to - in any sense of the word. But as he leaned against the side of the elevator watching Ludwig he felt a smirk cross his face.

_I still, like, totally got the advantage though. _

"Excuse me." Ludwig said quietly as he leaned past Feliks to type in the access code for the International Lounge, twisting a bit as he did so - revealing a little hint of solid black metal from the holster under his suit jacket.

_HOLY - He wasn't wearing that his morning! Oh man...this totally sucks now..._

Not letting on that he's glimpsed a bit more than he wanted to, Feliks hummed as the elevator lurched upward. After a moment the silence started to get to the young man who was normally so eager to chatter.

"So..." He started, trying to sound cool and collected and not at all worried about what the unusually tall German across from him might have up his sleeve. "You look like you're in good shape...you like, work out?"

Ludwig blinked a bit in surprise before stammering. "J-ja. I take my training very seriously and I like to be prepared for emergencies. So I work out very often."

"Still in as good a shape as ever then?" Feliks pressed, feeling his spirit deflate a bit more.

The other man nodded. "Of course."

_OF course...like, suckage._

Not that Feliks was exactly a pushover himself - but hearing that Ludwig was still in good enough shape to beat him to a pulp in an annoyingly familiar way really didn't help with his whole 'trying to calm down and act rational' thing. Just as the cramped space was starting to get to him the elevator made a pleasant 'ding' and the doors opened onto the restaurant floor. Quickly making for the exit, Feliks breathed a sigh of relief.

"So..." Ludwig spoke behind him. "If you like we can -"

"Cut the crap." Feliks snapped. "What information do you have for me?"

Turning, he caught the scowl on Ludwig's face before the man sighed. "Very well, if you'd prefer to talk here in the hall instead of the restaurant itself that is fine."

"Yes, I'd, like, totally prefer that." The small blond quipped, eyes looking over the other man suspiciously and causing Ludwig's scowl to deepen.

"I understand we've had our problems in the past - but could we please focus on the present now?"

"Problems? I think that words a little light for what we've been through."

The German growled something in his native tongue. "I'm trying to help you!"

Feliks feigned shock. "Oh really! That's too scary. 'Cause, like, you trying to help me is almost scarier than you trying to hurt me!"

"And if you get your idiot ass killed?" Ludwig finally yelled.

There was a moment of silence as Feliks' demeanor changed from mocking to dead serious. "Are you _threatening_ me?"

"AAAGGGRR!" Ludwig growled - for a moment looking as if he might just jump forward and slap his unruly acquaintance before he turned abruptly to stomp toward the restaurant.

Feliks stood with his mouth hanging open, ready to argue with an opponent that was suddenly no longer there. A bit confused he called out, "Hey!"

Ludwig stopped suddenly, a cold look in his icy blue eyes.

_Aw crap, I totally said that meaner than I meant!_ Feliks panicked a bit.

Standing by the restaurant door with his hands tightened at his sides Ludwig tried to calm himself down._ I'm supposed to be helping him..._ He reminded himself, desperately trying not to punch Feliks outright. Through gritted teeth he finally growled out;

"I do NOT have the time nor patience for your games! Now if you want the information I suggest you shut your mouth and follow me!"

Feliks glared at the wording but bit his tongue. Only taking a bit of consolation in the fact that he could just say all he wanted in his _thoughts_...

Cursing under his breath he followed Ludwig into the restaurant.

A harried looking waiter (who had heard the whole argument) led the two to a private booth somewhere far away from the only other guests in the restaurant - a couple of South American nations who were having too much fun to notice. Feliks was still cursing when they reached their seat - not even bothering to repeat anything. His mumbling brought another exasperated look from Ludwig who waved him into the plush red booth. After a hesitant glance Feliks took it - immediately moving to fiddle with the silverware.

"Look." Ludwig began, somewhat calm again. "I realize that this is all very inconvenient for you but it's very important. I do have some information regarding the unidentified forces attacking you right now. But we also have other information that is more pressing."

Feliks nodded.

Ludwig pulled a small set of photos from his chest pocket. "Satellite images. These are some of what they have."

Leaning forward the Pole's green eyes scanned the images carefully, feeling an eerie pit in his stomach as he looked over the weaponry. "They have tanks? How did they get tanks? They look...kinda old actually. Like, totally old."

"They're former soviet tanks - most likely bought off the black market and overhauled to function at a higher level. They're not as good as the standard tanks of your military but they're not to be underestimated." Ludwig explained.

"Like, duh." Feliks mumbled, still not quite believing he was seeing foreign TANKS on his soil. "Where did you get the images from?"

Ludwig paused in the conversation, looking up at their arriving waitress who was grinning girlishly at the two of them.

"Hey ya'll. What would ya like today? I know the steak's always good and we have plenty o' deserts to choose from."

The German smiled. "No thank you, I'm not in the mood for steak - do you still have the baklava?"

The woman grinned, looking a bit sheepish. "Sure thang sugar. I know that stuff's to die for isn't it? I eat it all the time - more than I should I'll admit." Marking it down on the tab she turned her attention to Feliks. "And what would you like darlin'?"

For a moment he wanted to say nothing, but somehow the word "Coffee." came out instead.

Jotting it down she nodded. "Well, my name's Sharon - if ya need anything just call me and I'll be right back with your order in a minute."

For a moment they watched their waitress leave. Then the nations chuckled a bit - both suddenly finding the tension had quickly dissolved.

"Alfred's kid? Really? I didn't, like, think you'd hire someone from across the planet."

Ludwig nodded. "Well, I do want all the nations to feel at home and I know how particular most of us are to our native dishes - especially Alfred. Only _his_ kids would know how to make his food the way he likes it. So I hire people from many different countries in order to get everything just right."

Feliks sighed as the waitress came back with his coffee. If he'd known that he might have ordered desert. He hadn't wanted to though- he still didn't trust Germany after all. Settling into his seat, he was surprised when Ludwig started talking again.

"As you know...I've already offered you my help. The offer still stands. If there is anything you need, let me know."

Feliks stirred his coffee and tried not to look enviously at Ludwig's desert as Sharon brought it to the table.

_Aw man...like that looks totes awesome..._

With a pout he drank some of his coffee. "Yeah, I remember." After a slight pause Feliks sighed. "So. That all you had to say? I mean, I'm grateful for the info on the tanks and all but you made it sound way more serious than it was. And for that matter, like, why do you care what happens to me anyway. This is totally out of the blue."

"Haven't you realized?" Ludwig asked, placing his fork aside. "I'm worried because this affects me as well. We both stand to lose if this rogue army takes over your land - although granted, you have much more at stake than I do."

Folding his hands, he turned a more serious look to Feliks who fidgeted a bit. "You're aware that we are currently planning to open up the market for Polish workers. This could disrupt that."

"I don't see that being a problem with you." Feliks pouted. "You sure weren't in a hurry to open the floodgates earlier - in fact if I remember correctly both you and that Austrian dude like, totally wouldn't have any of that." With a bit of bitterness he added. "Just because I was a former Soviet Bloc nation, right? Not that I had a choice in that."

Ludwig thought carefully a moment before answering. "You remember when I got my brother back?"

Feliks blinked, a bit surprised. "Well...Yeah...I kind of do..."

With an almost forlorn look on his face Ludwig continued.

"Do you know what it cost to keep him back? To reunite Germany?" Ludwig leaned back in his seat, looking off across the restaurant. "When the wall came down, people from the Soviet side flooded the area that I had watched over - all looking for a new start. Jobs, homes, everything was suddenly in demand. And I was grateful to see some of my children who I hadn't seen in decades. However; the price of unification was that the West had to drag the East back out of an economic mire."

Ludwig cast a glance at Feliks. "You know very well how the Soviet system worked. In terms of economics it left much to be desired. This proved to be a considerable handicap to the united German economy. In short, the West had to pay to get the East up to its level of commerce - to bring them equal without getting pulled into the mire as well."

Ludwig continued. "Furthermore...my brother. And our people."

Feliks could only watch with a sort of strange fascination. He hadn't really had many talks with the personification of Germany to begin with - and they were pretty much on non-speaking terms since the war. But here the big guy was, telling him everything about one of the most painful times in his life.

_So how can he be so open about this stuff...?_

"When my brother came back." Ludwig sighed. Feliks stilled his thoughts to hear his companion out.

"My brother...I remember clearly when he came back. He was changed. For a while we sat and reminisced about very old times. We comforted each other and finally felt like our family was whole again. But...being under such a repressive system had changed him. I could see that. At the time the wall came down I had little knowledge of what was happening to citizens on that side. But I found out more than I cared to know in the days and weeks that followed."  
He paused. "I had not been aware that when Russia took Königsberg that he killed most of the German citizens who had not been able to flee the city through starvation or sent them to camps in Siberia - in order to clear the way for 'Soviet Citizens'. Those who managed to survive he deported. These were civilians - _not_ military personnel. I slowly found out that this had sort of become a pattern under the Soviet system - that my children - and the children of many other nations were being routed out and killed because of their blood and in complete defiance of the treaties signed by the Allied nations. However; nothing was done to admonish Russia."

After a slight silence Ludwig added. "I find this...disheartening. I'm sure you remember my words from this morning at the meeting."

Feliks nodded. "Yeah. Something about you not liking the hypocrisy and stuff."

Ludwig confirmed that with a curt movement of the head. "The actions Russia took against _my_ children was revenge for what _I_ had done to him. And he was no better during that war than _I_ was. If my actions are monstrous than his are as well." His eyes flicked to Feliks. "And I do not pretend that I was at all humane in that war. For me it would have been much easier to take any retribution directly. But instead he did the most cowardly thing possible and took it out on my brother and our people. So when my brother came back he was a shell of his former self - more like a released prisoner than the proud soldier I remember from so very long ago. I understand that it was the will of the allies that we learn the error of our ways - but the manner in which Russia instructs others leaves much to be desired."

Hearing this Feliks could only nod in agreement. "Yeah. He's like, kind of an ass."

Continuing, Ludwig spoke again. "Since then Gilbert has gotten better and started to get his confidence back. But there are still times when it seems like his courage leaves him - there are moments that he sits and stares into nothingness as if he's haunted. And there's nothing I can do to help him."

Feliks, suddenly swamped with information, could only stare at his cold coffee.

_I remember_. He thought, biting his lip. _I remember what it was like there in Russia's house. And as much as I hate that cocky bastard Prussia...some of the things that happened were inexcusable...I guess because a lot of those same things happened to me too._

With a soft clink, Feliks set the coffee aside. "I understand...just please." And this time he caught Ludwig's eyes. "Don't ask me to tell you what happened."

Ludwig frowned in confusion. "Where is this coming from?"

"Well." Feliks scratched his head nervously. "I sort of promised that bro of yours that I totally wouldn't tell you some things. I mean...it's kind of personal." Looking up he tried his best to be comforting. "I mean, it's not like he doesn't trust you or anything! He just, like, totally doesn't want you to go worrying about him and stuff." At the end of his outburst Feliks shrugged. "I mean...I totally understand him. There are just some things that won't do any good for the people you care about to know. It'll only cause you pain and won't change the past. I mean...there are like some things I don't want Liet to ever find out about 'cause I know it'd hurt him. And I know there are some things he keeps from me. Am I ...making sense?"

Ludwig nodded with a soft, wane smile. "Ja. Perfect sense. I gathered that there were some things that my brother did not want me to know. I won't ask you to break your promise. And thank you for being unwilling to."

Feliks made a surprised noise and Ludwig chuckled slightly. "Well...you are doing _Prussia_ a favor. I didn't expect that."

"Now that you mention it... What do you want to know?" Feliks asked cheekily, grinning. For a moment Ludwig was silent before he laughed.

"Nein! I don't need to know, don't tell me!"

There was a soft ringing from the direction of Ludwig's pocket and after a hurried apology to Feliks he answered it.

"Ja?"

There was a muddled voice on the other end speaking German and soon the two were talking rapidly back and forth while Feliks tuned them out. He couldn't even understand half of what they were saying.

_Psh..Like _I_ know German. Whatever..._

But what he did make out was a surprisingly familiar voice yelling in the background just as Ludwig hung up.

Feliks scowled, his suspicions flaring up again. "Was that..._Lithuania_?"

Ludwig almost flinched back. "Did you hear something that sounded like him? Strange."

"Strange? Not as strange as you asking me all the way out here in the first place."

"Feliks, calm down please. What are you getting at?"

Taking a moment to think, Feliks finally took a deep breath and shook his doubts away. "I...don't really know. I just thought I heard Liet. Maybe I'm just totally tired right now."

With a sympathetic nod Ludwig responded. "I understand."

Standing, Feliks yawned. "So, I'll like, be going now."

"And you're not at all curious to know if my brothers involved with this rogue army?"

Freezing, the Pole turned to face Ludwig with wide eyes. "Involved...I thought-"

"I don't believe he is working actively with them. However; I do believe he's made contact with them. Whether he will join with them or not remains to be seen."

_Sure it does_. Feliks seethed. _Like, we'll see it once I'm half taken over!_ "Thanks - I need to talk to my generals about this so see ya!"

"This late? Will they even be available?" Ludwig asked curiously.

"Yeah, they're _my generals_ - they're always on call. Aren't yours?"

From his seat in the booth Ludwig looked away for a moment.

_Wait._ Feliks thought. _Why does he keep asking me questions all of a sudden? And stupid ones at that..._

"So I think I'll be going-"

"I thought we might talk about your opinions on the talks I've been having with Russia. I know you must have doubts so I'll answer any questions you have."

There was a long pause. Feliks stood, not quite sure what to do but knowing that every muscle in his body was suddenly tensed even though Ludwig appeared to be simply sitting there - waiting for a response.

"Nope...no questions." Feliks finally answered slowly - just to see how Ludwig would respond. "But it's been nice talking to you. I totally have to go now."

"Then let me escort you back to the lobby." Ludwig replied, standing.

Feliks wasn't entirely sure how he managed to get to door as fast as he did. Maybe it was the fear - the adrenaline in his body driving him forward. But he heard the sharpest curses in German behind him as he made a dash through the restaurant door and out into the slightly darkened hall. Without pausing Feliks raced to the stairwell and slammed the door shut.

"Uh...oh man...wait!"

Quickly removing his belt, Feliks used it to loop one end around the door and the other around the stairwell railing, pulling the whole thing tight as he possibly could. Granted, a leather belt probably ...definitely wouldn't stop Ludwig - but it might buy him some time. The second he heard pounding on the door Feliks turned and ran down the stairs - taking them almost a flight at a time.

_Just keep running - I can't let that bastard catch me!_

After two flights Feliks was breathing so hard he thought his chest might split open.

_Stupid! How the hell could I be so stupid! I should have never come out here! He's keeping something from me - Liet! I hope I haven't made a horrible mistake! I swear I'm coming! Hold on!  
_

Breezing through another three flights he felt his panic rising.

_Damn it all...I, like, should have known better! But I thought maybe things were different now. That he'd actually changed! Sure pulled a fast one on me!_

As he neared the bottom of the stairwell Feliks felt a knot of anxiety in his stomach. After all, Ludwig might have beaten him to the bottom. And what if he'd already called the guards? Then there was Toris...was he keeping him captive? Did Ludwig have backup - and if he did, who?

Gritting his teeth as he turned the last corner Feliks braced himself.

_Even if I have to go through every guard in this place I'm getting out of here!_

Grasping the door handle, Feliks held his breath and threw it open.

He saw the lobby - shining even in the dim light. The large glass doors sparkled on the other side of the open space and the lobby itself was empty with no one to bar his way. Sprinting out of the stairwell, Feliks tried to look as casual as possible as he made his way to the door. He glanced over at the closed cafe and felt a slow chill make its way up his spine. Normally, the business would be open late into the night - willing to serve the cities sightseers. But now it was dark and shut - a closed sign hanging from the barred door. Slowly Feliks looked around the suddenly foreboding lobby and realized that no one was there. The receptionists were not at their desks, the security team was not at their posts. There were no tourists, no patrons, just silence.

Feliks halted a few yards from the door, breathing heavily as he watched the man standing in front of the chained turnstile.

The brunette sniffed a bit, smoothing back his hair except for one unruly strand. Looking beyond Feliks, Roderick sighed as he placed his hands back in his pockets - his usual dressy attire changed in for a simple button-down and slacks.

"I was wondering when you'd get nervous and run. I suspected Ludwig wouldn't be able to keep you long at all."

Feliks grew still. Part of him realized that this might be just another bad dream. But another part seemed to know that it wasn't - just the continuation of a horrible reality. Almost at the edge of his wits, Feliks dredged up a smirk.

"Well...it's been, like, what? Seventy years since I've seen you without your glasses? Totally makes you look different."

Roderick looked away toward another set of stairs as the sound of echoing footsteps entered the hall. "It's about time Ludwig. You're really out of shape you know."

Ludwig ignored the ribbing and only focused his attention on Feliks. For a while he only watched the small blond - not saying anything at all.

Then he solemnly looked his fellow nation in the eye and said: "I'm sorry Poland. I'm taking you into custody."

* * *

Poland: LIKE NOOOOOOO!

_Oh calm down._

Poland: You, like, totally _SUCK!_

_~sigh~_

That only took forever and a day. Sorry about the long wait guys but I had a few issues.

1) My last computer exploded, taking this and several other chapters with it.

2) My internet keeps going out.

3) Tornadoes.

But now that school is over for the year I'll make my best effort to do better!

If I made any mistakes, let me know so I can fix them.

Thank you so much for your patience!


	9. Questions and Answers

warnings: Uh...language. Bad Bad Language.

* * *

The sound that Feliks made was something like a scream of rage, a little like a howl of anguish, and was completely sufficient to stun both Germanic nations for the five seconds it took for him to fly across the lobby and deck Roderick in the face.

His hand on the revolving door Feliks pushed but only slammed into the glass. Despite the jarring sucker punch, Roderick still had the presence of mind to grab the steel handle in an attempt to keep the device from turning and letting the angry Pole out of the building.

"NO!" Roderick gasped, still on the ground and bracing himself against the surrounding wall as he held the door shut. "Listen! You can not -"

A metal clack silenced him - the shining white barrel of cold steel staring down the Austrian who suddenly found himself in a very precarious position.

The gunshot echoed through the lobby - echoing harshly through the open space with enough force to cause a ringing in the ears of the three nations. There was a neat little hole over by the check-in station; something Ludwig would have to explain when he wasn't holding back the furious nation of Poland.

Roderick was still staring with wide, scared eyes. Trickles of sweat wound their way down his face and neck - passing the deepening bruise on his jaw as he watched Feliks thrash violently, trying to escape the German who had managed to capture him in a one armed choke hold strong enough to lift him clear of the ground. With his free hand Ludwig struggled to pry the gun from Feliks' grip - not _yet_ willing to break the smaller nations hand to do so.

"Do kurwy nędzy!"

"Calm down! We're trying to help you!"

Sudden sharp kicks flew back into Ludwig's legs, causing him to curse and drop his captive but he was glad to have at least disarmed the dangerous man. Both he and Roderick had known from the moment they had formulated this 'intervention' that there was no way it would go well at all. In the best case scenario they might only have to fight with Feliks a little bit before he gave up.

But of course Ludwig already knew that the worse case scenario was far more likely.

Feliks suddenly reached for something under his red coat. Roderick moved - in an instant grabbing the Polish mans arm and twisting it around his back. Feliks responded by kicking at his perceived attacker and earned a sharp curse from the aristocrat. Ludwig entered the conflict a moment later, using his larger size to tip Feliks off balance - and inadvertently throwing Roderick as well.

"ACH! LUDWIG!"

"Bitte!" The German exclaimed, desperately trying to hold onto his thrashing captive. Now that they were all on the ground he found it much easier to keep Feliks restrained but he couldn't hold onto him forever and they both knew it. "Poland! Please calm down and listen to me!"

"Odpierdol sie!"

There was a sharp crack as Feliks threw his head back and successfully knocked Ludwig in the face. With a low growl the other nation tightened his grip while hissing a low "Verdammt!" under his breath.

Getting both of Feliks' arms behind his back had helped as much as the nations slighter frame had - making it possible for Ludwig to hook both arms at the elbow with his right and use his left to pull Feliks into another headlock, yelping indignantly as Feliks began pinching and scratching at whatever he could manage to reach.

He was trying to be careful - to not hurt his neighbor. There had already been so much pain between them that he really didn't need to add another reason for hate.

But the feeling of the smaller country fighting against him with the ear-splitting echoes of the mans frantic curses was doing something unconscionable to him and quite unexpectedly Ludwig realized that the safest place for Feliks may be as far _away_ from _him_ as possible.

They were close enough that he was nearly buried with the scent of Feliks' hair - even if he tried not to breathe at all it was pointless. The smell of it- that scent unique to Poland, that distilled fragrance of an entire nation made his lip curl back in a snarl.

And more than anything at that moment Ludwig wanted to break every fragile bone in that mans body.

_STOP IT! That's ludicrous! I want to help him! I HAVE to help him! I can't...I can't..._

"Roderick!" Ludwig growled squeezing his eyes as tightly shut as possible. Maybe if he could just breathe, if he could stop hearing, stop feeling it might all go away...

"Spierdalaj!"

There was a flash of movement only a second before a dull crack could be heard - eliciting a sharp and high pitched shriek. It had only taken that second for Feliks to end up face down on the tile - no longer in a choke hold but instead pinned with his arms crossed behind his back with Ludwig's knee holding them there as the larger man put his whole weight on his captive.

He KNEW he could tear him apart.

Ludwig could feel the way the small blond's breaths were cut to short gasps as the weight of another nation pressed down on him. He could feel Feliks straining to fight back and fail - completely helpless. And he could feel the tension of bones about to break in his grip.

"RODERICK!"

Black clad arms moved in front of him, grabbing Feliks' arms as a ski-masked figure knelt beside Ludwig, looking him in the face with serious blue eyes. In a moment the newcomer unlatched a pair of handcuffs from the police issue utility belt and moved to close them over Feliks wrists.

"No!" Ludwig suddenly snapped - the frightening spell that had befallen him a moment ago now broken as he tried to catch the other mans gaze. "Turn him over first - cuff him from the front."

The other man made a muffled sound of surprise before he tried to push on anyway. The second the cold metal latched onto the Polish mans wrist he let out a choked scream with what little air he could pull into his lungs. With a curse Ludwig slammed the masked man with his shoulder - pushing him away.

"Are you not listening?" The German growled, his icy eyes flashing ominously at the other man - not at all pleased that he'd been ignored. In the moment that the other man spent staring in shock Ludwig managed to quickly flip Feliks onto his back and quickly snapped the other cuff on his wrist. Then he leveled another serious look at the masked man.

"NEVER cuff him from the back. I'm trying to make this as painless as possible - we're trying to help, remember?"

Taking the opportunity the German moved back, turning away the instant he was on his feet. His blood was roaring in his ears with every pounding beat of his heart. But the lobby was now ominously quiet as no one seemed to be willing to make even the slightest sound.

Clenching his fists, Ludwig waited a few precious moments until he heard Feliks being lifted and ushered away. Then he loosened his grip and took a deep breath.

Somehow...he'd been delivered.

* * *

_Like...what the fuck just happened?_

When Feliks was lifted off the ground he could see Ludwig only a few feet away - his back turned to them and his hands balled into fists. For a second Feliks thought he saw the blond shake a bit.

It was just too weird. He was still in shock as the strange guy in black started moving him away.

The moment he'd felt that first cuff slam on he'd completely panicked. He just...couldn't stand that - the feeling of being bound up like that just...

Feliks shivered, taking a deep breath._ But...Ludwig knew that. That's what he told this weirdo anyway. _

Which of course made him wonder who the hell was now dragging him like a child's toy through the lobby and into employee only half of the hotel. But despite his furious questions the guy wasn't answering, only looking at him with those sickening blue eyes. God...if Feliks ever saw another pair of blue eyes again...

He was dragged through the lobby, pulled into the kitchen, and after a flood of more cursing, kicking, and general disagreeableness the back door swung open and Feliks realized he was being manhandled into an alley where a big black armored truck was waiting. Despite his continued defiance he was easily lifted and set in the back - with the masked man in black taking a seat right across from him.

Feliks scowled. "So who the hell are you anyway? Hello? Hey! I'm, like, talking to you asshole! Answer me!"

Nothing. The man sat with his arms folded.

_Great. And it's not like I can fight him like this. Man...what the hell is going on?_

The trucks rear doors swung open, and much to Feliks' dismay Ludwig entered to sit on the exact same side as the masked man. He looked like he'd taken the time to straighten himself back up but his eyes still looked wide and agitated.

"And you..." Feliks hissed, green eyes narrowing on his neighboring nation. "You liar! Cheat! This is why you wanted me out here huh? So you could beat the crap out of me and take me prisoner? This is total bullshit! I should have totally seen it coming - I knew better than to trust some dirty murderer!"

The temperature in the cab seemed to plummet - as if Ludwig's icy cold stare was freezing the air around him.

"I wish to explain." Ludwig finally ground out between clenched teeth. "If you'll listen for just a moment."

"Listen?" Feliks snapped incredulously. "Why the fuck should I listen to you, you damn barbarian!"

He felt something like a wind tousle his hair. It could almost have been mistake for a breeze were it not for the sudden ringing in his ear from the sound of splitting metal. Feliks' eyes moved slightly and focused only a few inches to his left where Ludwig's fist had decimated the side of the armored truck - leaving a wide hole in the side of the vehicle that had stopped suddenly the second he had hit it.

Heart in his throat, Feliks turned slowly to meet Ludwig's gaze.

For some reason all he could see were eyes. Eyes the color of arctic glaciers - eyes without warmth or pity or any other comforting emotion. They were instead as sharp as broken glass - cutting into his very mind.

Feliks thought he heard something like crying as the memories of years ago crept back to his mind. His whole body hurt, trembling with every gasping breath as he looked into those pitiless glacial eyes that were telling him oh so clearly that they wanted nothing more than to see him in pain.

Roderick returned the back of the truck to order the second he flung open the door. The instant the cold night air hit them Ludwig turned, quickly leaving the back of the car. After a moment of muffled curses in German Roderick slowly climbed back into the space vacated by his irate cousin. With a heavy sigh he slipped his glasses back on and rubbed his sore jaw. After a moment the car started back up and as soon as it was moving again the Austrians eyes snapped open and he looked over at Feliks with angry violet eyes.

"And now what have you done to him? I can't possibly think of what you might have said to get him so upset."

Feliks would have come up with some snide response about how he was sorry if he was making his abduction difficult had he not still been quaking from the events of the past minute or so. It took a while for him to come back completely to the moment but when he did he spoke very lowly and quietly for the first time since they'd declared him under arrest.

"I...I'm not sure."

"You said something. What was it?" Roderick pressed firmly.

Another sigh later Feliks finally put the pieces together. "I...called him a barbarian."

The Austrians deep eyes widened in disbelief before he frowned and leaned back with an angry snort, crossing his arms. "Idiot. I'm actually surprised you're not in critical condition after a stunt like that."

For the first time that night Feliks kept his mouth shut.

The rest of the ride passed in silence.

Just as Feliks was putting the finishing touches on his grand plan to escape the back of the van they came to a jarring stop and he was unceremoniously swooped up and onto the masked mans shoulder.

_What! That totally bites! I could have made a break for it too!_

And so he was carried (still cursing in Polish) into a building that looked too cold, gray and uniform to be civilian.

Several minutes and countless hallways later he was deposited on the floor of a large room that was decorated much in the same way that the living room of a lavish estate might be. There was a large couch decked out in red velvet and gilded in gold flanked on either end by carved wooden tables that seemed to glow with a warm ruddy tint. A glass topped coffee table matched them and set off the color of a fine Persian rug beautifully.

With chandeliers and a large open bar it looked far too high class for Ludwig's taste.

Austria sighed, leveling a warning look at Feliks as he was helped to his feet by the masked man.

"If you ruin anything in this room I will personally deal with you. I like this suite."

Ignoring the Austrian, Feliks glanced over at Ludwig who stood by the door. In turn the German looked to his cousin. "I'm stepping out for a moment."

"Really?" Roderick asked, violet eyes widening. "And where are you going?"

"Out." Ludwig responded curtly, reaching the door just as it opened and an angel walked in. An angel with constantly worried green eyes and dark wood-brown hair that swung easily around his face.

"LIIIIIEEEEEEEEEETTT!"

In an instant Feliks pounced, throwing his cuffed arms over Toris' shoulders and spinning the two of them around in dizzying circles while his friend worried about getting sick on the carpet. When they had stopped spinning the blond finally looked his caring friend in the eyes and tried not to cry.

"Like. It's really you! I was so freaking scared! But I totally kicked ass! You should see Austria's FACE!"

"That's rude!" Roderick snipped from the bar, rubbing his cheek sorely. "I've half a mind to kick you both out so I can get some peace and quiet!"

"What! You kidnapped us!" Feliks yelled back, growing angry again. "So fine! Kick us out!"

"Kidnapped?" Toris yelped, turning his impetuous friend to face him. "Why on earth do you think we've been kidnapped!" Feliks blinked. _Like, what?_

From the corner of their side view the masked man made a strangely muffled noise and started waving his hands spastically in a gesture that might have meant denial. With a groan Roderick walked over to the flailing man and in a smooth gesture lifted his ski-mask.

Then he quickly ripped the duct-tape from America's mouth.

"AAAAAHHH! AAASSSHAT!"

"Vulgar tongue!" The brunette snarled, pinching him with a vicious twist before pointing in an authoritarian manner at Feliks. "And you as well! Don't think I can't understand it just because it's Polish! Watch your language!"

Feliks stuck his tongue out - a fairly mild move in his opinion seeing as he figured that flicking the old killjoy off meant he might not get his cuffs removed.

"Feliks." Toris questioned, forest green eyes concerned as he leaned in. "Did you really think you were being kidnapped? Didn't they tell you?"

The Polish man paled a bit, remembering the night's events - from the sucker punch to drawing a gun on both nations. "Oh man~" The nation groaned at last, sinking onto a plush red-velvet chair. "Like, not cool."

In an instant Toris turned to glare at Roderick. "You didn't TELL him? I trusted you two to do this gently! That's the only reason I went along with it!"

Feliks' grip tightened painfully on Toris' shoulder and the Lithuanian turned with an apologetic gaze toward those angry emerald eyes.

"I-I'm sorry! But it was the only way to get you to safety! Feliks someone was trying to kill you!"

"Kill me?" Wondered Feliks, loosening his grip.

"Yes! Intelligence intercepted a plot for an assassination attempt on you and several other officials while you were here in Germany. Not that it works so well with us nations but we didn't want to risk outing you as a personification. But if we told you then we couldn't catch the guys trying to hurt you and you'd just end up in danger again. So they had me play your decoy while they got you to safety!"

"Like, no way."

Toris nodded. "I can't believe they didn't tell you."

Feliks sighed, then tried to scratch his head and failed as he jerked on the cuffs. Glaring over at Alfred he jangled the metal bracelets. "UH HELLO?"

"Oh dude! My bad!"

As Alfred searched for the key in his wormhole of a back pocket Feliks turned back to Toris with sheepish expression on his face. "I didn't give them a chance to. I'm sure you'll hear all about it though." For a moment he thought as Alfred unlocked the cuffs, freeing him again. As soon as he was loose he rubbed his wrists thoughtfully.

Frowning, Feliks stood up and looked for Roderick. "HEY! Can I get my gun back?"

"YOU BROUGHT A GUN TO A PRIVATE MEETING?" His responsible partner screamed, making even Alfred jump back a step or two.

The American hadn't seen Toris that angry since the first time he walked into the house after hiking in a rainstorm...

"I can't believe you came to a discussion armed!"

"Germany was armed!" Feliks yelped as he backed away from his kinda scary friend. "Weren't you!"

It took the Pole a moment to realize he was pointing at air. Or would be if a south Italian wasn't in his way.

"Wha-"

Romano snorted. "Potato bastard left about five minutes ago Valley bastard. And stop yelling, you're hurting my ears."

"I'll second that." Roderick commented as he laid a large - strange looking contraption on the coffee table and set several groups of cups around it. Romano glared at him. "Shut it Piano bastard!"

"Language..." The aristocrat growled. "Everyone please help yourself to some tea while we await the results of the raid."

"Wait -" Feliks exclaimed, looking around nervously. He really didn't want to let Germany out of his sight - considering that he still didn't trust the man as far as he could throw him. Which was about half a meter on a good day. Granted, it seemed like now it had all been a laughable misunderstanding - except for the laughing part.

So he looked around but couldn't see the German anywhere. The nation was indeed gone.

"Where did he go South Italy?" Feliks demanded of the more 'uncooperative' Italian brother.

"What? Am I the Potato bastard's keeper?"

"Ve~ that's not nice brother."

"Shut up, you're just as bad as he is! I don't see what you find so attractive about that Potato bastard anyway!"

Feliciano smiled. "Germany's nice and kind and strong and he has a funny accent."

Romano growled, moving away from his brother. "Never mind!" Glancing at Feliks he waved at the door. "Go looking for Potato bastard if you want. He's out smoking"

There was a slight clatter as the Austrian dropped his plates a little harder than he'd expected - distracted by Romano's claim. Straightening he looked anxiously at the door. "Smoking? Are you sure?"

A way-too-sultry-for-the-occasion voice answered.

"Positive. Germany is out on the balcony smoking." France sighed. "I loaned him a cigarette myself. You should not worry, they are the highest quality."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Roderick sighed. Catching sight of Feliks moving for the door he pointed. "And you! Do **not** go near him right now!"

"What?" Feliks demanded, scowling. "Now, you like, listen to me. This was all your guys' big idea so like, don't get pissy at me because that guys' got his panties in a bunch!"

There was a smoldering glare in the Austrian's violet eyes. "He's upset because of what you said to him! Honestly; you should really think before you open that mouth of yours!"

"What? So I'm supposed to be worried because I hurt poor old Germany's feelings? What a load of -"

"A cigarette sounds so lovely!" Francis crooned, looping Feliks' arm with his and wheeling him toward the door. "We shall be back in a minute, my gracious host."

Roderick only snorted. "Take him, _please_."

Toris stood up to follow his friend but was quickly stopped when he was commandeered for kitchen duty. After a sigh he decided to let it be.

"And what the hell is all this about?"

* * *

Francis took a moment to light his cigarette - gently puffing until he was certain that the end had completely lit. Then he flipped his engraved lighter closed and took a deep breath. Leaning back against the wall he savored it a moment before nodding and moving slightly to face Feliks. "So."

"So what?" The smaller nation wondered.

Francis waved his hand in the air, causing the smoke to dance around it. "So what did you say to poor Ludwig to get him into such a sour mood as to smoke?"

Taking in the Frenchman's question, Feliks kicked at the pebbled surfaced balcony. "Don't know...I guess...doesn't Germany smoke anyway?"

"The last time Ludwig smoked was during the war."

Feliks paused, turning his head slightly to regard the taller nation who stared back at him in all seriousness.

Francis nodded again. "I remember him hiding it because it was considered unseemly for him as the role model of his nation to indulge in such a habit. He was punished severely if he was caught. Nevertheless, the last time he smoked was during the war - and only when something upset him so much he needed to think clearly."

After this Francis waved his hand again. "So? What did you say to him?"

There was a long pause before Feliks provided an answer. "I called him a barbarian."

Francis sighed heavily, so much so that he seemed to curl forward and deflate before leaning back against the wall, adjusting the cuffs on his white button down. "That is bad...non. That you should not have said to Ludwig."

Feliks frowned. "Am I, like, supposed to be all gentle with him? Sorry - that totally isn't happening."

"I'm not talking about being gentle." Francis cautioned him with a hint of severity. "There are many traumas that we nations undergo. These can leave deep scars on us forever. Surely you know of a few such scars already - ones hidden from the world?"

As he spoke the Frenchman almost nonchalantly glanced the back of his neck with his hand.

_Russia. _

Feliks recognized the reference. He had lived a hell in that house as well - one more haunted than his own. It was a cursed thing enough to have an enemy spill innocent blood on your home; but to spill the innocent blood of your own people left a much deeper and darker stain on a nation's soul. Of course, there was always the possibility that Ivan had not been born that way - but had been twisted and bent into the form he eventually took during the wars.

Which for Feliks seemed a bit more frightening. It was so much easier to bear when someone was just 'born bad' instead of believing that a good person could be willfully transformed into a monster.

Which brought him back to the conversation at hand. The small blond looked up at the 'elder brother' of many of the European nations and frowned.

"You said scars. What kind?"

Slowly, Francis finished his cigarette. He carefully snuffed it and placed it in an ashtray he'd brought with him before removing another from the pack and carefully lighting it. Finally finishing with this ritual he gave a strange short laugh. "Indulge me Poland. Listen to an old fairy tale?"

* * *

There was once a gloriously handsome man. His name was Rome. Of course he had everything a nation could want - good land, a strong military and plenty of cute and perky young ladies all across the countryside.

But Rome had a bit of a vice - he loved to explore new mysterious and exotic lands...

And promptly take them over. A bit possessive, non?

Time after time Rome fought and won. No one could match the might of the wonderful Rome! And for those who resisted he felt sorrow in his heart - for they would not know the light of his ways. How could they be happy in such darkness?

_"Verdammt! Can't you just leave it alone?"_

_The man who had spoken could barely move. He was tired and sore - but that would never have stopped a warlord such as himself. Unfortunately there are other ways to bind a warrior - blood loss, sleep, hunger, the deep piercing of flesh. _

_As the man sat in the damp earth, the rain drenching him and turning his golden hair a shade darker as it soaked down to the skin he heard the cry of a small child. His head snapped but only the tip of a sword filled his vision._

_Rome warned him with only a silent look. _

_Then the empire turned and walked away, dragging by the arm a child only a third of his size. The boy's bright blue eyes were wide and frightened as he struggled against the grip of the much stronger entity. _

_"Germania! What's wrong! Help me! Don't let me go! Germania!"_

_"Don't take him!" Another voice yelled - another boy racing to help his friend. His eyes were defiant as he charged an enemy he had no hope of defeating. But a sudden hand grabbed hold of him and pulled him close, allowing the sword that had supported the defeated man clatter loudly to the ground. _

_"NO!" Germania ordered, pulling the young child to his chest. _

_"We have to help him! No! Let me go! Why are you letting them go!"_

_The old nation could do nothing but sit, holding onto the one that remained - clinging to him as if he were a lifeline, as if he would disappear without him. _

_After pausing only a moment to watch the drama unfold, Rome resumed his homeward march. _

_At first, the boy was a mess. _

_He wouldn't sit still - he seemed so full of energy and loved to run outside. _

_He wouldn't stay clean - he was always loose in the woods somewhere. _

_He wouldn't eat decent food._

_Why couldn't he eat decent Roman food? It was so lovingly and wonderfully prepared! Much better than that whatever-the-hell he'd been eating before he became part of the empire!  
_

_But slowly, the child from the woods started to change from something wild to something tame. In a few years he was writing in Latin. Eventually most of the traces of that hideous accent he'd had began to fade into something pleasingly Roman. _

_Of course, it was knock off Roman - but imitation was the truest form of flattery wasn't it?_

_And when he was old enough surely he'd have all the loveliest ladies! That kid would be quite a lover when he was grown! He'd inherit all that from his Grandpa Rome!_

_But the best part was that the kid didn't seem to HATE him anymore. He didn't spend long nights sitting up and staring into the forest longingly - as if something was out there that he needed. He was content to listen to music and drink and dance in the firelight - watching it flicker off of polished stone pillars. He was happy to have good food and clean linens and watch chariots race in the city. _

"Rome was proud of his newest acquisition. It would be one of his last major ones however. The real prize he wanted was that mysterious neighbor of his to the north - that tall and imposing man with golden hair and cold blue eyes. Germania.

This child he had stolen was just a small part of that. If he could have all of Germania he could very well have the world! That place could be a crossroads - a line between east and west, north and south. If Rome could expand it's reach there they would be poised to extend even up to ( dare he dream ) the Far East!

Fate however; dictated that this was not to be. He'd let his guard down. Rome had gotten beaten by barbarians - so soundly in fact that he didn't have the nerve to try again. And every time he tried to take the other boy from Germania he ended up with a horde of fur-covered, sword wielding, strange talking primitives on his doorstep. A man such as himself couldn't stand it! How could the mighty ROME be defeated by people little beyond the level of savages? Such were his thoughts.

The young boy that Rome had captured could see the daily struggle within his 'grandpa's' empire. Rome and its lands were considered to be the height of culture. The Orient was advanced, the Egyptians were intelligent, but nothing compared to ROME.

And especially not those nameless hordes that were outside the light of the empire - those who lived in the dark, dangerous forests. Those who lived outside of the Roman Empire were barbarians, and nothing they ever did would make them stop being barbarians.

Even when Rome finally faded away into the mists of history and the lands he had governed began governing themselves - Italy, Spain, Portugal, England, Greece, Egypt, among others; the light of the empire remained. Magnificent ruins strewn across the land may as well have been billboards proclaiming that these nations had once been under the 'care' of the mighty Rome - greatest of Empires.

These nations were proud of their history. They _had_ a history.

For those nations that were never part of Rome - well, there was nothing but a blank where a life story should be. Barbarians don't _have_ a history after all."

France paused. After lighting his fifth cigarette he stared up at the sky.

"This was how medieval academia began, Poland. History started with Rome. If Rome was not involved there was no history. And _I_...even me in my foolishness fell for that lie. Because I had been taken by Rome I began to believe that I was special. I became proud of my masters accomplishments - I a mere slave of the empire! I treated his triumphs as my own. And I received the best treatment from him when I acted Roman. So I acted that way. Eventually it came as naturally as breathing to me."

He pointed at himself. "You know where the term, Romance language comes from?"

"You're not coming onto me are you?" Feliks asked with a raised eyebrow.

Francis smiled. "IF you want me to~"

"Pass."

"That's a shame. Non. A romance language has nothing to do with l'amour and everything to do with Rome. Those languages that are derived from Latin are 'Roman' languages. My language is a Romance language...Germany's is of course Germanic."

Feliks frowned for only a moment, squinting at the other nation in the dark.

With a soft chuckle France moved his hand to his head, sweeping his long bangs back over his forehead and away from his face. "Does this help, Poland?"

Ho-ly - shiiiiiit...

Feliks could only stare in shock as he stared at...a really German looking FRANCE? With a goatee...great. His eyes must have been deceiving him all this time for him to not notice it until that very moment. How could he have missed it!

"You did not notice." France stated solemnly. "Spain has dark hair, those sultry brown eyes of his (and a cute ass I might add.), Italia has those adorable golden eyes so much like his grandfather. So have you never noticed before, Poland? That out of all the 'romance' countries that I look so out of place? Or did you miss that our dear Angleterre's language is of the Germanic branch? It all has to do with who was 'Roman' and who was not."

After a series of deep breaths Feliks finally found his voice again.

"You're...related to Germany? So you're German?"

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Are you ill? Non. I am _not_ German. In the very beginning - when we were just small babes - there was no 'French' or 'German' or 'English' as we know of it today. These identities developed over hundreds of years. In those earliest of times however; we were simply many different tribes with a great deal in common; although we each had our own cultures as well. The Viking culture influenced not only our dear Nordics but wound it's way down into the lands where Germania lived and West into the lands of the Ancient Britons. And the Celtics made their way across the water to influence both Germania and Gaul. You see, movement was much more fluid before the Romans came and made us...different... from one another."

"Wait." Feliks frowned. It was uncanny, now that it had been pointed out to him he could definitely see the resemblance. But they were so totally different - they were nothing alike in personality! "You were that kid who got taken by Rome weren't you?"

Francis smiled softly. "France - from the Kingdom of the Franks. I was not always known as Francis, and my name was not always 'France'. This is why I am a big brother, non? And this is why you must promise me never to call Ludwig a barbarian - and most especially not to his face. Even if he starts it - and knowing his unrefined blunt nature he surely will at times. Those wounds go too deep for him. He cannot bear it after all we nations put him through."

"What you put him through?" Feliks questioned.

"Yes. We pretended as if he has no history. That Germany had no achievements. Have you not noticed? In many world history books Germany is not even mentioned until our dear Prussia arrives on the scene. And then he is considered only a footnote until the first of those horrible wars. I have heard talk, Poland. Humans who claim that everything Germany has he has had to borrow or take from other cultures because he has never created anything of his own."

France sighed. "In a way...I think he envied me - at least after Rome's fall. To be part of such a legacy of innovation. He missed out on that. Grandpa Rome was what all of Western Europe models themselves on even to this day. And then the renaissance on top of that! Ah~ So when that abysmal leader of his came to power he cloaked himself in the false garb of old Rome. He preyed upon that weakness in Ludwig's mind. If he could not be part of Rome, then in a sense he could become a new Rome, oui?"

With a weary groan Feliks leaned against the concrete balcony railing, emerald eyes looking out over the city of Berlin. "So you're saying that he got sick of everyone like, totally dissing him and calling him lame so he tried to _become_ Rome?"

Francis shrugged. "This is simply guesswork of mine. For you see, Poland, Germany's relations with the other Germanic nations is not so...close. He shares many of the mythology that our dear Nordics do, yet he can not lay claim to the Viking culture as that is seen as the heritage of nations such as Sweden. A shallow sea separates him from our Angleterre and while they did in their early days share some religion and art he is not permitted to claim the inheritance of the Celts - despite the fact that many major Celtic sites are within his lands. It is Britain alone who claims it as his. And he was never part of Rome. Nor is he a Slavic nation or a Baltic so he lays no claim to their heritage, culture or history. So you see, he is surrounded by groups that he interacts with, yet can never be a true part of. You can see it in how they speak about him."

"I've never heard anything weird about how we speak to him." Feliks pouted. Francis raised a manicured eyebrow. "Non? And so, Poland, what is the word for 'Germany' in your native tongue?"

_"Niemcy."_

"And what does it mean?" Francis pressed, an almost devious smirk on his face.

Feliks frowned as he thought back to how he started calling his western neighbor that. "Oh...well...he doesn't really speak Polish so...I just sort of called him that."

"And what does that have to do with it?" Francis egged him on. Feliks glared. "It means 'mute' or 'outsider'. 'Cause...you know. He wasn't like us. And his Polish sucks. But I'm not the only one who uses something like that!"

"Of course not." Francis sighed. "Belorussia, Russia*, Ukraine, Hungary, even Czechloslovakia all have variations of that word for Germany. No doubt this is because he is considered a stranger and an outsider to you. No...it is not just you Poland. Most nations use either that form for 'outsider' from the Slavic tongues or they use the Roman version of outsider: 'Germania.' Which amounts to the same thing. In fact the only ones who are close are those nations in East Asia who he has introduced himself first to and the Nordics who speak their own variations of his actual name."

Feliks frowned. "You're telling me that Germany is not Germany's name."

France frowned back, looking a bit puzzled. "Of course not. His name is Deutschland. You are using the name given to him by Rome as an outsider." After a moment France waved it away. "But do not mind it. He has grown used to that name I suppose, though I doubt he is pleased with it but so long as other nations do not shun him he will accept it. In fact, for much of his history that albino brother of his has had more productive contact with your dear Lithuania than Ludwig."

Feliks looked back at France. "Like, really?"

"It was not uncommon for Baltic and Prussian bloodlines to mingle greatly. The majority of Gilberts influence came from those nations. In the beginning Prussia's bosses wanted nothing to do with Ludwig. They did not want to rule over a 'lesser' German kingdom."

With a frown, Feliks looked back at the city. "Lesser? Prussia's bosses really felt that way...so what about Prussia himself? It couldn't be...that there was a time he considered Germany lesser as well..." Then Feliks suddenly sat up, green eyes a bit steely. "You know, you almost sound like you're trying to defend him. For what he did and all. If that's your game they you should totally stop it right now."

At this Francis frowned - an irritated countenence coming over him. "That is part of the problem itself, Poland. Can a doctor treat a disease if he does not recognize the symptoms?"

"What? Where the hell is that coming from?" Feliks snorted. "Quit avoiding the subject."

With a melodramatic groan Francis finished his last cigarette of the night. "Pay attention, dear Poland. You must stop looking for an excuse in all matters concerned with Germany." Holding the other nations attention, Francis lowered his voice.

"You have just done what I myself am guilty of - you assumed that my explanation was an excuse for his reprehensible behavior during that catastrophy. It is not. Non, there is no excuse for that. However; in my foolishness I ignored his feelings in the first war - I didn't see how I was hurting him. I failed to see how we were crushing his spirit. To pretend as if he had never done anything of merit...in the 1900's Germany was a wonderful scientist. Yes, he devoted everything to learning about the universe. Many of the great inventions we have today are a result of his hard work."

Francis sighed. "He was trying to do something worthy enough for us to take notice...like a child hoping for approval. We would not acknowledge his history because we set our minds into narrow expectations of what history was." At this he looked back over the city and waited a moment before continuing. "I read quite a lot of what these humans have to say about us. It is fairly interesting. But I have noticed that when writing about the stories of our lives they are awfully narrow-minded Poland. They view history as if it can be traced wholesale onto the present. We know this is not true. Some places that are French territory now were once German, or Roman, or even invaded by Ottomans. So the history of our lands is not as simple - it does not 'match up' cleanly with the past. So writing our life stories is just as tricky. Many of us have changed names - some of us have gotten married. Nations have risen and fallen. So history is a very fickle thing. And more than one culture may stem from a common point - sweet Ukraine and that horrible Russia come to mind."

"Yeah..." Feliks mused. "Wasn't that...Kievan Rus? They both claim that as an origin point, right? So...were they one at one point? Or were they always two?"

France said nothing, instead moving away from the wall. For a moment he stopped before a smile spread across his face. Looking over at Feliks he laughed.

"Well...it's all in the past. Just don't call him a barbarian again, alright? Au revoir!"

A second later he was gone.

A second after that Feliks heard Arthur cursing.

The Pole sighed, leaning back over the balcony. "This is totally way too complicated."

* * *

**Authors Note:**

Holy freaking cow that took forever.

_Austria: LANGUAGE!_

Dude! I said COW!

Anyway, sorry it took so long to get this up and running. I haz too much stuffz goinz on.

Also, the weather here sucks. Just the other day I was woken up at 6 am by the tornado sirens going off. And today we had ( guess what ) More storms. Luckily we've dodged the bullets so far. It's like living in a shooting gallery every freakin' spring.

But for those of you in the Missouri - Illinois area I have a bit of a shameless plug. The YMCA's and some churches in the area are still gathering relief supplies for Joplin. If you could help out that would be totes awesome.

~Facepalm~ I've been hanging around Poland too much.

_Poland: Don't worry! I'll make you totally fabulous!_

Thanks for reading - I'll try to get faster with this.

_Prussia: You say that every time you post._

I know...T.T

*The Russian word for Germany is basically 'Germania' but the Russian word for 'German' (i.e. a person ) has the same root as the others listed.

The weird tangent between Francis and Feliks actually came about because of a book I was reading that ticked me off - it claimed all the stuff I stated here, that Germany stole all of its culture from somewhere else and never did anything important until WW1, and it's ruins are all tacky fakes or knock offs, and it's all because Germans are militaristic nutjobs that are too weak-willed / incompetent / delusional to run a country without messing it up. Yes. This was basically the point this book was getting at. That and he dissed Wurst.

* roars at author*

Sad thing is it was being sold in the history section of a major bookstore chain. The author has no accreditation other than being a journalist and tourist. If I got any of the overly complex history between Germany and France wrong please correct me. I'm trying to get it right.


	10. Red and White

_Yep. Sure enough Francis is at it again...like, couldn't he stop for a minute or something?_

Watching with a sort of mild fascination from where the balcony entered back into the hall, Feliks was a passive observer as the Frenchman started in on his favorite hobby - harassing ( in all manners ) Arthur.

With a rough shove Arthur managed to break contact, swearing all the while.

"You never stop! I prefer your hostility to this touchy nonsense!"

"You prefer hostility? Non. I will teach you better."

"Piss off!" The Englishman snapped; disappearing into Rodericks suite just as the room's owner appeared. Arthur managed to slip past Francis with only an 'innocent' touch. Roderick himself remained completely un France-handled as he turned right, heading in the opposite direction of Felix.

"Hm? Now where's mister high and mighty going?"

Remembering that Ludwig had taken off to some isolated spot Feliks realized that the Germans hiding place might well be where the Austrian was heading. With a careful glance to either side Feliks quietly followed as soon as he dared. The hall turned right suddenly - connecting with yet another long hall. This one made two right turns. Each one made the Polish man jittery.

_Man...this totally feels like someone is gonna jump out at me!_ Feliks fretted as he slowly peeked around the corner. Austria's voice could be heard through and open archway that led out onto yet another balcony - though this one far larger than the one Francis and he had occupied. With totally super stealthy grace Feliks snuck up to the opening and listened anxiously.

"Ludwig...wie geht es dir?"

"...ich weiss nicht. Ich bin mude. Heute..ach. Aber, Roderich?"

"Ja?"

"Ich habe eine frage..."

Feliks sighed...

_I __**still**__ don't understand German. Man...like, then it's no use listening in._ _The only guys who'd be able to know what they're saying are them and Gilbert. Like, this totally sucks. _

Thwarted by the language barrier, Feliks retreated for the night. It's not like it was the only thing he could do with everyone here. In fact, now that he had a moment to think about it as returned to the room, he wanted to know how that whole raid thing was supposed to work.

Turning the handle on the door he entered the room. Within short order Toris and he had isolated themselves to a cozy corner by the fire to paint their nails.

Or rather, for Toris to do all the work while Feliks ate pocky.

"So...did they make you wear a wire?"

"No Feliks. Why would I wear a wire?"

"'Cause, they like, totally went all super spy mode to save me right?"

"Er...not exactly."

"Like, totes lame." Feliks sighed, watching as his longtime friend painted his nails a delicate shade of cherry blossom pink (mostly because Feliks was too impatient right now to do it himself) "So...how did you pull it off?"

Toris closed the bottle, making sure the cap was on good and tight. "I'm not sure I would say we 'pulled it off'. We don't know the results of the raid yet or even if the second phase has started."

"So! Tell me where we're at now then!"

"Fine...Hm...let me think..."

* * *

_Toris huddled into the red coat. It was exactly like the one Feliks had left in - mostly because it was the blonds spare. In fact, Feliks packed two of everything. Because he hated doing laundry of course. The Lithuanian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He needed to be paying attention right now. Currently he was sitting in the hotel cafe, drinking a cup of coffee with a brunette wearing too many ruffles. _

_"So Mr. Lauriantis. When he comes in you know the plan right?"_

_"Yes. I've been told. Just...promise me you won't hurt him - even if he gets mad or does something stupid."_

_"We'll try. Now! There he goes!"_

_As soon as Feliks and Ludwig disappeared into the elevator Toris rose from his seat. He was a bit nervous to say the least. All he knew was that someone was out to kill his best friend. So like any good friend he'd wanted to help out in any way possible. _

_He'd forgotten at the time though that one of those ways could end up with him getting killed. Granted, he was a nation so it wouldn't be permanent but it still HURT._

_So as he walked out into the snow, burrowing into Feliks' red jacket he tried not to look like a scared rabbit in a sea of wolves. _

_It's okay...just back to the apartment, change clothes and head out. Got it. _

_That was the plan anyway. _

_But after helping a little lady with her groceries, giving directions to a group of tourists and getting turned around and going the wrong way for several blocks Toris was beginning to forget about the plan. _

_And when he caught his reflection in a mirror he nearly scared himself._

_Man...I need to act like Feliks too or this is never going to work._

_Just then he looked past his reflection and saw a beautiful - and I mean beautiful- dress made of luxurious forest green velvet. _

_Well...if Feliks were here he would beg me to try it on...and I would say no. So, Yes? I mean...I am pretending to be him...and it does have a pink sash..._

_Two hours later Toris' phone rang and when he answered it very angry German words nearly burst his eardrums. _

_It was only a half-hour or so after that when Toris (as Feliks) arrived at the hotel room they shared. The halls seemed eerily quiet but he dismissed it. No doubt that Ludwig and Roderick had probably cleared most of the building already. They didn't want anyone else involved. _

_Slipping into the room, Toris made a show of pretending to be quiet. He quietly walked into the bedroom and closed the curtain, only glancing at the lump on the bed once it was closed. Leaving the mockup alone he moved quickly to the bathroom and started to change into his pajamas. _

_Okay...he said to change into sleepwear; act tired and make some coffee._

_Thankfully removing the wig at the last minute, Toris pretended he'd just woken up. Which was not that hard to do - he hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before due to Feliks calling him up at three in the morning to have a sleepover. Toris scowled angrily at the bedroom where the Feliks was not present. _

_He made his coffee - and some toast. _

_Then he settled in to read the paper. _

_Then he checked his watch, realized that Roderick was probably going to freak out on him again and moved quickly to the bedroom. Changing into his business suit he grabbed the suitcase with both his and Feliks' important papers (and a spare change of underwear just in case) and left the room. _

Now it was up to Special Forces. If anyone made a move, they would be there to catch them.

* * *

"Ludwig...how are you?"

"...I don't know. I'm tired. Today...ach. But, Roderick?"

"Yes?"

"I have a question..."

At this the Austrian drew closer. He wasn't sure if the question was something that would be considered sensitive or not but it was best not to take changes. Roderick had just thought he'd heard something after all.

"What is it?" The aristocrat asked, now leaning against the same cold concrete rail that Ludwig had his arms on. A lone cigarette burned down to the filter hung from his mouth as the man stared out over his capital, eyes focused on the distance. Roderick shivered a minute in the cold - he hadn't thought to bring a sweater or jacket out and it was still only February; not the time of year to be walking outdoors in a simple shirt.

"Am I...a horrible person? Am I evil?"

"Of course not!" Roderick responded quickly. "You shouldn't even ask something like that! I know you've had a lot on your mind lately but don't go sinking into that hole again! You did a good thing today by getting involved." The Austrian paused a minute as he replayed the incident in his mind.

"You're thinking about what happened when I left to get Alfred."

Ludwig looked up with a slight frown. "You know what happened?"

"No." Roderick shrugged, adjusting his glasses. "But I know you were upset by the time I returned. I heard you yelling for me. And then I heard-"

"You heard Poland."

At this the aristocrat turned; face set into a serious expression as he regarded his cousin.

"You are _not_ a bad person. You just have...a few issues that we need to take care of."

"Issues?" Ludwig responded dryly. "An issue is being afraid of spiders or needing everything nice and clean at all times. Becoming slightly homicidal around your neighbor is a _serious_ problem."

The Austrian sighed. "I see your point. But Ludwig...it's not at that level anymore is it? You don't have thoughts like that anymore."

Across from him the German looked away. "If we're going in that direction then I need another cigarette."

Roderick frowned. "Ludwig. What happened when I left to go get Alfred? Normally I would not pry into your business - especially if you didn't want me to but having just heard you admit such a thing I need to know."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"If you don't talk about it, it will get worse!" His cousin snapped before lowering his voice. "I'm trying to help you - and whether you admit it or not you want the help."

"I...I didn't do anything..."

Though Ludwig had started the sentence strong he trailed off, instead laying his head against the concrete rail.

"But I almost did. Roderick. It was something about being that close to Poland, actually fighting with him. There are...too many memories between us - painful ones that are not easily shut out. And other ones...that I don't like."

Roderick sighed. "It might have been a momentary take-over. Either that or a war flashback. Either one could have caused it."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Moving closer and checking over his shoulder to make sure he was alone, the Austrian continued.

"Ludwig. You know how the humans in my home started checking records to make sure they had no affiliation with..._him_...? When they started doing that I was grateful simply because there are still a concerning number of humans who want to take us down that same road again."

"You mean the neo-Nazis?"

"Who else?" Roderick snorted. Ludwig suppressed a smile - if there was anything on earth that was the farthest thing from the young and restless humans that insisted on trying to revive the third Reich then it was the uptight and traditional aristocrat next to him.

"Yes. Them. No doubt you've had trouble with them - judging by the latest news I heard."

Ludwig sighed. "I really didn't want to have to disturb the dead but it was becoming a problem. I just don't understand why Hess was such a rallying point."

"Who knows? What I'm trying to explain to you is that sometimes a small portion of the population can override the majority when it comes to how we think."

At this Ludwig stood up a bit, a thoroughly displeased scowl on his face. "So you're saying that an opinion can determine how we act as individuals."

"Unfortunately it does lodge itself into our minds."

"So earlier-"

"A take-over. When a minority for just a moment has the clearest voice in our heads. Normally that's a good thing, especially when minorities fight for rights. I'm sure you saw how strangely Alfred acted during the sixties."

"He was a bit out of character." Ludwig mused.

"That minority was screaming in the back of his head the entire time. Eventually he knew he had to do the right thing and started pressuring his government to change the laws. So the civil rights movement was successful."

Quite unexpectedly the German groaned, leaning heavily against the rail. Through gritted teeth he finally growled; "So you're saying for just a split second my brain was hijacked by neo-Nazis. This day just became worse somehow. That's not good."

"No. It's not."

"So..." Ludwig blinked. "Then why doesn't that happen with other minorities...for example the Muslim community? Or tourists?"

Roderick nodded thoughtfully at the question. "Because you've never been Muslim. And...It's kind of hard for you to be a tourist in your own house isn't it? In your memory as a nation - in those hundreds of years you've never lived according to that path so it's much harder for it to 'take-over'. However; as distasteful as it may be for you there is a history with the Nazi party. You were indoctrinated into that way of thinking - you had it so thoroughly driven into your brain that it probably still hasn't all come out yet."

"But I'm trying!" Ludwig explained in frustration. "I'm trying to do the right thing for every one of my people. I just don't understand how such feelings can still be in the back of my mind!"

"Because it's all our people knew, Ludwig!" Austria explained, a distressed look crossing his face. "For eleven years it's all WE knew! You had at least two generations of people who were taught day in and day out the doctrine of the Nazi party. Then the Allies come in and try to 'fix' everything and play the good guys while allowing even more atrocities to happen with their official stamp of approval against our people. Because of that your people didn't trust them when they claimed to be helping - neither did mine or Prussia's. And unfortunately once trust is lost it's very hard to get it back."

Calming, Roderick took a lower tone. "A bad flash-back coupled with an extreme situation and a hostile minority creates a recipe for aggression. To be honest with you Ludwig I _know_ you. You would not have let it get out of control. But trying to confront Poland. There's...history there that cannot be erased."

There was a long silence between them. For a good five minutes they stared out over the city. It was starting to snow now, light flakes drifting from the heavens. Ludwig looked up into the sky at the golden-red clouds that were reflecting the artificial light of the metropolis.

"Gilbert."

Roderick scowled, not seeing the connection. "Is there something else?"

Ludwig looked around. He desperately needed something but he knew his Austrian neighbor didn't smoke and the beer was back in the suite. "This group, they're trying to re-establish Prussia - whether he likes it or not. My concern is...is it possible that one of these 'take-over' incidents may happen with him?"

"You know the answer to that." Roderick responded quietly.

"I was hoping I was wrong." Ludwig growled, leaning heavily against the rail as he tousled his hair with his hands.

"Ludwig, he's nowhere near Poland. He should be fine."

"That's not it..." The German sighed, his gaze returning to the skyline - a deep shadow of concern in his eyes. "My brother...if I can be taken over - even for a split second - by a minority...what will happen if a majority takes charge?" Shifting his gaze he regarded his cousin with a firm eye.

"What is going to be the first thing that will happen if the world finds out that the nation establishing itself now in northern Poland is actually Prussia reborn into the world? Who do you think will be the first ones trying to take the helm?"

Ludwig wished it was the cold that caused Roderick to pale so quickly. The aristocrat could only stare blankly as the wheels in his head turned. A moment later he let out the breath he had held in shock. "You're right...damn it. I forgot about all that! It would be a miracle if all those hooligans _didn't_ go flocking right to his door. He'd be overrun! And if one becomes his boss..."

"I definitely need a beer - or something stronger." Ludwig grumbled as he turned and headed inside.

Roderick waited only a moment, staring up at the sky as the barest wisps of snow began to fall down.

"Frau Holle. What is that idiot doing now?"

Ludwig didn't make it to the entrance before he was nearly run over by a hyperactive blond with hamburger breath.

"OMG DUDE! There you guys are!"

The two shared an exasperated look.

"THEY FELL FOR IT!" After this Alfred laughed. "Operation: Bust them sucka's is a totally success man!"

"Where are they?" Ludwig demanded.

"Come on! I'll take you there as long as I totally get to drive!"

* * *

"HOLY SHIT WHERE'D YOU LEARN TO DRIVE!" Gilbert screeched as the car deftly swerved across four lanes of traffic and skidded off the highway. Ignoring him, the man behind the wheel stared at his radio - turning the dial rapidly.

"What did they just say - I don't believe it!"

"Adler what the hells wrong with you!"

"Shut up! Listen to this!" The General snapped, silencing the irate ex-nation next to him. Begrudgingly Gilbert listened.

_-by the German military. Two suspects were taken into custody as a result of the raid. Their names have not been released to the public; however we have gotten an exclusive statement from the government regarding the organization behind the plot to kill a top ranking member of the Polish government, Feliks Lukiewitz. According to authorities Mr. Lukiewitz is being hidden for his own safety at the moment but is expected to return to Poland soon. Outrage has boiled over as more details of the foiled attempt become known - _

"Adler?" Gilbert questioned. He'd seen the look on Adler's face a hundred - no, a thousand times on countless other people.

It was the look of someone who'd been betrayed.

* * *

Ludwig tried to catch his breath.

"I blame you for this." He growled, smoothing his hair back. Alfred gave an irreverent snort.

"Whatever dude. I like totally rock when it comes to breaking speed limits! Limits are made to be broken!"

"I'll break your head in a second." The German grumbled as he followed Alfred toward where the two captured men were. Halfway down the long and sterile looking white hall an older man came out to meet them, an officer with the military. He had a serious, no-nonsense look that had surely withered the spirits of more than a few strong-headed opponents. With dark brown hair clipped short and gray eyes bright and alert he seemed like the model of a modern Major General.

"Oberstleutnant Bergmann, sir. Please follow me."

Lt. Colonel. Close enough.

The three made their way to the end of the hall where behind one-way tinted glass one of the suspects sat. The Lt. Colonel held the door open for them as they entered. After only a moment he left them alone to attend to other pressing issues. While Alfred fiddled with everything in reach Ludwig fixed his gaze on the man seated on the other end of the glass.

_He seems too young for this. Young and foolish. And there were more like him apparently._

Before long the interviewer came in. For a long while the man asked question after question of the suspect - trying to get something, anything out of him. And once he was done the two sat in silence a long moment.

Then the young man spoke. "All you need to know is that God's Sword will never fail to find its target."

* * *

Adler put his head on the wheel. For a moment it looked like he might have been praying. Then he calmly looked over at the befuddled albino.

Prii-

Prii-

Prr-

Quickly Adler took out his cell and motioned for Gilbert to be quiet before answering the call. He didn't speak at all for a full five seconds. Then a familiarly Swedish accented voice came over the other end.

"Königsberger"

A smile cracked Adler's' face. "Klopse. I'm glad you made it out."

There was a 'humph'. "Y'know 'bout it then?"

"No. What happened?"

Gjord sighed and took his time in answering. "It's the Sword Faction. They staged a coup."

"Karl..."

"Yes. Karl staged it. He's lead'r of Sword Faction now."

Leaning back in his seat with a deep breath the General took in the news, brown eyes troubled. "Did we lose anyone Gjord?"

"'bout thirty."

"Damn it all..."

"t'was a sneak attack, Adler. He didn't giv any warning."

Wearily, the General turned off the radio and started the car back up. At this, Gilbert shifted nervously. Gil-bird chirped for reassurance.

"So. Where do we go then?" Gilbert cut in. There was a pause before Gjords' voice came over the phone.

"Oh. So we got a consolation prize?"

Adler nodded to the blank air, still looking a little shaky. "Yeah, one hell of a prize. Now we get to play keep-away."

"I 'nderstand. Meet us at house 19."

Closing the phone, Adler handed it to his passenger.

"Take the batteries out first, then the sim card. It'll stop anyone from listening in on us."

"And what is Sword Faction?" Gilbert asked as he tore apart the phone (gently of course)

Adler sighed. "In the army I was running, there were two factions - Sword and Shield. We're Shield. The guys who tried to kill the personification of Poland are Sword. We've had our problems before...internal fighting...I guess I blew it. I shouldn't have left the compound. That Karl...he must have just been waiting for me to leave, damn him."

Gilbert nodded, red eyes serious. "Like the white and the red."

For a moment Adler glanced over at the young man. "Like what?"

"Just a little history lesson I learned from Russia." Gilbert smirked. "I just hope I'm with the good guys."

"Are there really any good guys?" Adler asked, his voice sounding a bit worn and tired.

"God I hope so!" Gilbert exclaimed. "I've had enough of the bad ones!"

* * *

Ludwig was on the verge of just falling down, dead tired. He was running on the last threads of adrenaline, nicotine and a jelly donut. All he wanted to do was sleep - and yet he got the feeling that sleep would be the last thing he'd do.

"You're back." A soft voice inquired.

Feliks walked over, still in his nightclothes. Ludwig wanted to make an excuse, or run or ...something.

But he was just too tired, too worn out.

"Ja. I'm back." Ludwig responded, feeling for all the world like a delinquent sneaking in after midnight only to be interrogated with only one foot in the door. "I think I'll be up for a while, did you want something?"

"Vodka?" Feliks mumbled. Ludwig stared.

"Look, don't let that Russian dude fool you - I invented the stuff."

The German sighed, a tight smile playing across his lips. "I think I can arrange a little bit. Roderick tends to keep a stocked bar in the kitchen."

The two insomnia plagued souls made there way to the island of cookery. In short order they had drinks and snacks and both settled into a not-quite-awkward silence. It didn't feel friendly but not hostile either.

"So...I...I'm sorry I tried to shoot your cousin."

Ludwig would have laughed at the absurdity of that phrase. Honestly; it was just something one didn't hear everyday.

Sorry for breaking your pen.

Sorry for messing up your clean floor.

Not, sorry I tried to kill a relative - my bad.

So Ludwig took another drink of his beer, pleased by its refreshing and mind-clearing qualities. When he was finished he guessed that perhaps Poland might want a response.

"Eh...I understand that you only did so because you thought you were in danger."

_You were._ Ludwig thought bitterly, taking another swig.

"I seem to be doing that a lot lately...thinking that the people out to help me are there to hurt me instead. Such a mess."

Finishing the bottle, Ludwig set it aside and resisted the temptation to go for another. Instead he loosened his tie. "It's not your fault-"

"Yes it is."

This caught the German a little off guard and he could only stare in open mouthed shock at the smaller blond. Who flicked him off.

"Jeez. I'm trying to like, totally tell you stuff and you make weird faces at me."

"I'm sorry for that," Ludwig huffed, not feeling he should be sorry for making weird faces at all. "Please, continue."

Taking in a deep breath, Feliks stared hard at the countertop as if not looking at Ludwig would make this easier. Ludwig noticed, realizing that now might be the time to let Feliks know about...earlier. He had a right to know didn't he?

"I keep jumping the gun...no pun intended." Feliks spoke softly.

_I blame you for everything that goes wrong, even when it's not your fault._

"And I don't listen when you talk - I suspect every move you make."

_Because in the past I couldn't trust you - and I was stuck there for all this time._

"But now...I know you're not out to get me. And I don't think we're totally bff's, but we're not enemies, right? So. I want to bury the hatchet. I...want to totally not hate you anymore. I think we can manage that."

Ludwig listened intently, realizing that telling Feliks he actually had wanted to hurt him might be the worst thing he could do right now.

_No! He reminded himself sternly. He needs to know that the safest place for him is as far from me as possible. I will tell him that. Then Feliks can return home and not worry about anything. I'll stay here, where I can't slip up again. _

"Can I ask one favor Ludwig? Just one? Will you grant me that?" Feliks wondered - peeking up through his hair with child-like eyes at the stoic German who suddenly realized the only answer to that question was yes.

Ludwig nodded.

Feliks took another deep breath. _I'm tired of living in fear._

The man across from him held his breath. _He deserves to live a life without me. _

"Ludwig. I want you to be my bodyguard."

* * *

**Authors Note: **

_Ludwig: NEEEIIIN!_

_Feliks: Like, chill out. Totally, to the max.._.

For, Freaking, Ever. That's how long this chapter took.

I'm posting it for now, I'll clean it up later today (hopefully)

If you see anything that needs tweaked, let me know. I needz feedbackz.

In any case, Thanks for Reading!

_Russia: I was not in this one...T.T...perhaps the magical stick can arrange it?_


	11. Liberi Fatali

_"The scene today was utter chaos as fighting broke out in northern Poland in the Masurian Lake District. While some of the refugees have been evacuated from the area by authorities there are still many who are unaccounted for and have no doubt become caught in the sudden outbreak of fighting as what is now being called a terrorist cell has started fighting openly with the Polish military. The group - calling themselves "Heavens Sword" has also claimed responsibility for the assassination attempt on many top officials of the Polish government that was thwarted by German Special Forces late last night. Since fighting began there have been several confirmed casualties. According to the military the forces are acting with complete disregard to the civilian population. Although in a strange twist to this story, a second unidentified group has actually aided in the evacuation of those affected by the fighting and has also reportedly been seen in skirmishes with 'Heavens Sword' - leading to some speculation that it may be some form of civilian resistance movement. However; in the latest statement, officials have declared to do everything within their power to bring what they have called; "outlaws and rebels" to order - including both factions- as wanted criminals."_

The door flew open, the cold winter night belching forth two ice-covered souls. A man raced to the door with a blanket in arm, wrapping a dark haired man in a worn leather coat as another one of his companions draped a red-eyed youth in a thick wool throw. Gjord leaned down a bit, trying to peer into Alders face as the man shivered and sputtered from the biting cold.

"Damn! I forgot about these winters! That came out of nowhere!" Gilbert exclaimed, stomping around the entryway in an attempt to warm himself - the drab draped wool flapping with his arms. There was a welcome heat to the house and the smell of the wood lingered pleasantly in his nose. "You gonna be alright over there, kid?"

Adler snorted before it turned into a sneeze. "Yeah...I'll be fine once my bones thaw out. Besides, it's nothing I haven't been through before."

"Pfft. Yeah. Yeah. You're mister tough guy."

"Glad to hear you agree."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. Normally if someone was wise-cracking then there wasn't much to worry about. Granted, some people could fool you like that. Gjord moved Adler away from the frosty nation trying to swipe hot chocolate from the nearest person to him. Having gained his full attention, the Swedish man looked over his leader with worried brown eyes. "Y're soaked."

"About the car...the windows are gone now."

The look on the Swedes' face struck Adler as hysterical. He'd laugh it were actually funny. Who knows, he might laugh anyway...

"What happ'nd?" Gjord spoke slowly, as if he didn't really know if he _wanted_ to know. Gilbert supplied the answer with a growl, throwing the blanket on a couch now that he was sufficiently warm. To his surprise the cold actually hadn't affected him much this time.

"Attack helicopter. Those things are a bitch to get rid of by the way - especially when you're outrunning one in an old Mazda."

"Call it a late Christmas miracle." Adler answered wryly, running a hand through his tousled black hair. "I thought they were going to wipe us out for sure." With that the man sighed, letting his hand fall limply as a serious expression crossed his face."Gjord. I need an update."

"You need 't sit." The man ordered, pulling his commander over to a chair like a doting mother. After pushing him down into the plush padding amid a wealth of protests, Gjord pulled up a wooden chair nearby - his action followed by several of the men that Gilbert was just now starting to notice. Some of them he'd seen back at the other safe-house.

_Not that it's safe anymore_.

As Gjord began relaying the day's events Gilbert took a seat of his own, lost in thought.

It HAD been one hell of a day already.

_One day. Really? That was it?_

Just that morning he had left the compound with Adler. It had been dark - the dead of night. Then on the way he'd read all that nonsense about MK-ULTRA, stopped a world meeting in it's tracks, and ended up being chased by a military chopper out to catch the guy who might well become his next boss...if he even managed to stay alive that long.

Gilbert sighed, scratching the top of his head. There was something cold and -

"OH SHIT! GILBIRD!"

He hurdled at least a couch, a trash can, and an invalid while trying to get to the fireside to warm his bird. As he cradled the small canary yellow creature he rubbed it gently, trying to get some life into it and flinching when the frost covered golden down made an unnerving crinkling noise.

"Come on now...breathe buddy...stay with me..."

"Here, wrap him in this and keep him warm. He should come back soon."

Gilbert took the cloth from Adler, staring in wide-eyed wonder. The man surely had more important things than to care for a sick bird. So why was he over here trying to get the little thing heated up? It wasn't like he knew what the bird was after all.

Hell, even Gilbert didn't know what Gil-bird really was. He'd just sort of showed up one day and never left.

Having done his part, Adler returned to his seat and allowed Gjord to finish his story. Despite several glances in Gilbert's direction he managed to complete his report with little delay. Upon finishing there was a silence. It was a quiet of expectation; this group of men - and women now that Gilbert took a good look at the faces - who were waiting to see what path the future would take. Their leader sat with his head in his hands, pulling at the dark locks.

"So... they'll turn this battle into a bloodbath. Damn it." Adler growled, biting at his lip. "What the hell have we turned loose..."

"We can't let 'm. They have'ta be stoppd." His second in command stated resolutely.

"I know! But we can't get involved without being arrested at this point and we can't protect people from a jail-cell!" The man sighed, amber hued eyes frustrated. "No...there's too much to do."

A man in torn khaki's and a smudged green sweater to his left cleared his throat, glancing hesitantly before Adler motioned for him to speak.

"Sir. So...is our mission changing?" He asked. Gilbert had to wonder how young the guy was - he seemed even younger than the 'chief' and that guy couldn't be older than mid-twenties!

_God...there are kids fighting in this thing..._

Gil-bird gave a weak chirp as his blood warmed, de-frosting his stiff body. His feathers had thawed quite a bit and fluffed readily with the slightest touch.

"Hey there little guy." The former nation cooed softly. "Missed you there."

"Our mission has changed."

The albino man turned his head quickly to look at the group - all eyes focused on the man in the center in his worn through brown trench-coat and his threadbare sweater. A man who looked like he hadn't slept in months or eaten in days. Still, he looked as calm and determined as Gilbert had ever seen him.

"Yes. There's no way we can think of establishment as long as Heavens Sword remains intact. We know what they are capable of." He paused a moment to catch everyone's gaze, passing information through the severe look. After the momentary quiet his voice dropped to a warning tone.

"They will stop at nothing to re-instate Prussia as a new militaristic, 'Aryan' nation. And they will destroy anything that tries to stop them - including the people of this nation. No. _Especially_ the people of this nation. That is unacceptable! And I am absolutely positive that this is not what our nation would want." At this, the mans eyes flicked to his right. It was only a second, but enough time to catch golden eyes with crimson and confirm that they understood one another completely.

Standing, Adler made sure he had his soldier's attention. "Therefore; our mission has changed. Our goal at this moment is no longer establishment. Our task is to live up to our name - Heavens _Shield._ We will place ourselves on the front lines of this conflict. We will bear the brunt of our brother's wrath - so that the people of this country may _not_ feel it. We will feel their sword - their bite. These people should not suffer for our goals. Since it is through our..._my_ neglect that we have come to this."

At this, Adler's voice grew softer. "I'm sorry for that. If you choose to walk away from this battle, one you didn't sign up for feel free to go."

"And be a cowardly dog that lets civilians die for some 'noble war'?" The man to Adler's left exclaimed, gray eyes flashing. "Hell no!"

The General gave a wry snort, a smile creeping onto his face. "Now that we've heard from Volker, let's let everyone else have a go."

The group laughed. Gilbert smiled.

There were voices all around expressing their support. Gilbert thought he might have seen one or two slip away in the commotion - keeping a low and quiet profile as they left. Those who remained seemed in it for the fight. Looking over them, Gilbert couldn't help but feel a pang in his chest and rubbed it absently.

_These guys...they feel so responsible for this other group that they'll risk themselves just to keep the civilians out of it? How many people are that crazy? _

Moving through the room, the senior officers took role - an up to date count of how many they actually had to fight. Gilbert had to wonder if there were other safe-houses or if this group of 73 men and women were all he had.

_Hey now_, the ex-nation chided himself, _don't get carried away_.

Adler winked at him and Gilbert turned away, pretending to make a fuss over his bird. Which he totally was because Gil-bird had recovered enough to flop into a plate of food and start pecking wildly at it - much to the disgust of the plate's owner.

"Oops! Gil-bird! Man, you have to ask before you do that! Come here..."

He gave a sheepish grin as the bird returned to his care. The red bearded man raised an eyebrow and was apparently unimpressed.

"I'm really sorry...he's kind of bird-brained sometimes."

The man cracked a grin. "Never mind. If you froze me solid I'd be feeling half-starved too. The names Ludwig."

Gilbert laughed. "No way! I have a brother named Ludwig! My names Gilbert - and this is Gil-bird. We're pleased to meet you."

"Likewise." The man smiled, taking a drink from his mug before continuing. "Got a brother myself. Names Helmut. We're twins actually - he's at another house."

"Same fight as you?"

"Yep. We both signed up at the same time. What about you - new to this group of ours? How'd you get shanghaied into it?"

"Shanghaied is the right word." Gilbert smirked warmly as he looked over at the General who was drawing up some counter-strike plans - both Gjord and Volker on either side. "I caught a ride here with your leader. He seems a pretty cool guy."

"Haven't seen him mad. Then he's harder to hold onto then a red hot. Seen lions easier to tame then him." The man quipped, taking a healthy bite of bread. Gilbert perked up a bit, wondering just how much the man knew about Adler. It would be more than the Prussian knew for sure.

"So. You been with this traveling circus long?"

The man nodded. "Yeah, since the beginning. It wasn't always so full of sunshine and baby bunnies as it is today." He rolled his eyes. "Had a lot of trouble in the early times. Our last General got in over his head and left this world with a bullet in it."

"A firefight." Gilbert mused, growing serious.

"No." The man growled. "That damn Sword Faction took him out 'cause he was too "dainty" to be in charge. This was back when they had a majority in the army and so they had this big ol' mock trial - accusin' him of spilling the beans to the government or being a spy. I don't think they ever decided which one it was but they sure enough decided he was guilty and bumped him off just like that."

Ludwig sighed, setting his mug down with a heavy thud. After a moment of stroking his long red beard he continued. "After seeing how corrupt they were there was a coup and a new group took hold. Bunch of older guys. They're the ones running Shield now but they were runnin the whole show up until last night when there was an insurrection and those Sword bastards killed off half the council. Now we get what's left of them and Sword faction gets a run of the land while we regroup."

"Man." Gilbert sighed. Gil-bird sighed in agreement as the man returned him to his hair. "It get's worse and worse then."

"Sounds about right."

"So how did Adler get the coveted position of General?" Asked the Prussian, curious about the mans origins.

"No one knows." Ludwig the red-bearded responded, pushing the plate he'd been eating from aside. He began to watch the fire as he spoke. "The council brought him in after the last General was killed and told him to take it. We don't know who he is or where he comes from. Don't even know his full name - although...we don't use full names here. You can't finger someone as an accomplice so easy that way. But yeah, he got on here by appointment and has done good with us since."

"Good." Gilbert breathed a sigh of relief. If the soldiers liked their leader that was a good sign. Troops really weren't the type to take guff from a blow-hard know it all. Had there been any issue he would have said so.

"Thanks."

"Nothing to it. You wanted to know."

Adler's voice carried across the room. "Gilbert?"

"Ja?" He responded, standing up and maneuvering through the couches.

Adler waved at him. "Can you come with me a moment? I want to go over something in private."

With a nod, Gilbert followed. After a circuit of the house and not finding a single unoccupied space the tired General relented and took the stairs to the second floor. They passed two rooms before reaching the end of the hall and stepping inside the room. A horde ended up being kicked out - most settling downstairs but a few sitting in the hall itself and leaning against its one wall, staring out over the living room through the space where the other wall should be but was replaced by a wooden rail.

It was kind of a cool setup, Gilbert thought. _Like a balcony._ Inside the room, Adler turned on a very small lamp and hovered over it.

"So. What do you think about us confronting Sword?"

"I think we should do it as soon as possible."

"I had the same thought. I can't risk us being caught by police though. Then again neither can they."  
Gilbert remained serious in his expression. "But your guys won't shoot police, right?"

"Never." Alder answered; eyes hard. "They are forbidden to. I'd rather not have them arrested for murder."

"Then yeah, you're at a disadvantage - strategically speaking."

"I know. That's why I want your help. I want to move the safe-house to near the border with Belarus. Hopefully close enough that Sword faction won't cause too much trouble there."

Gilbert shivered a bit as he remembered the frost witch who used to be his neighbor. "Really? I mean...is there another way or something?"

"Hm? Is something wrong?" Adler asked with eyes wide and unsuspecting. Gilbert just groaned. "That countries personification is a bit of a bitch."

Adler made a soft, "oh." Before nodding.

There was a loud crack - a repeated banging sound that filled the air. Gilbert hit the floor, hugging close to it and covering his head amid the sound of yelling and shattering glass. The machine-gun fire continued, rattling around in his ears even as he thought he heard someone yelling for him. It went on for an eternity it seemed.

Then it stopped.

In the silence he could hear moans and cries, shouts of alarm. Adler was suddenly beside him, gripping him by the shoulder and checking him to see if he was okay.

"What happened?" Gilbert hissed, instantly having Adler's hand clamped over his mouth.

There was a sound of boots outside approaching - lot's of them.

Then the clomp of people moving up the wooden steps outside came, moving into the doorway. Slowly, Gilbert crawled to the room's entrance and looked down.

The lights in the room had been blown out by the machine guns, the broken bulb swinging in its hanging socket. The boots crunched glass as they entered and slowly looked around. Then their leader - a tall imposing man with pale blond hair and frigid blue eyes in the center spoke.

"Brethren. We have come to ask that you join us. It is only right that we join together under one banner. Are there any that would come with us?"

Silence greeted them. A man reached for his gun and was immediately shot down by the ringleader's guards. Prussia felt Adlers' grip on him tighten as the General flinched, another low and almost feral growl rising from his throat. Gilbert couldn't help but agree, feeling a knot in his stomach as he looked over the arrogant bastard below. He could only guess that these guys were the big bads that Ludwig the red-bearded had mentioned earlier.

Their leader sneered, looking as if he wanted to kick the still warm corpse.

"Pity. I suppose that can't be helped if you want to live your childish dream. But I must ask this, if your threadbare leader changes his allegiance would you? I hate to see such pure blood spilled needlessly."

"Go to hell!" A familiar voice spat. From his hiding spot by the upstairs room, Gilbert saw Volker in a half-crouch against the wall - his shirt soaked through with blood. The former nation felt his heart skip a beat. His body became tense and he silently chanted for the kid to shut up or run or something that wouldn't get him killed.

The man at the door regarded Volker for a moment then turned away with a snort, smoothing his blond hair.

"No. I think I'll leave that to you."

Behind Gilbert was a low growl. "Klaus you son of a bitch...you shoot first and then ask us to surrender!"

"That's the guy?" Gilbert asked, making sure to keep that smug face in his mind.

He'd be looking forward to punching it in the future.

The group left, their footsteps retreating down the wooden stairs and into the yard. Gilbert stood up - for the first time getting a full look at the chaos below. That one attack had wiped out nearly all of the people on the first floor. A few looked to be alive but just barely - they'd need attention and quick. Racing across the landing with several other survivors of the second floor, Gilbert reached the stairs just as something moved out of the corner of his eye.

The room exploded in fire with the sound of busting glass. Gilbert jumped back - hitting the rail and falling over onto the other side of the stairs. There were several more crashes as gasoline soaked bottles rained in through the smashed door and windows and consumed the front of the house in minutes.

Gilbert could hardly catch his breath - his eyes turned upward in amazement as a firestorm engulfed the house. Everything was burning, angry flames racing from one corner to the next. After that slow second time leaped forward as Gilbert came to his senses. He scanned the living room, spirits sinking when he realized there was nothing that could be done for those that had been dying a moment before.

They were far beyond dead now.

As the house timbers creaked from the blaze the few people left raced for the back, trying to kick open the jammed door. Gilbert was just about to push them aside and do it himself when they succeeded - spilling out into the night.

A hand was at his arm, jerking him painfully away from the portal just as another round of machine-gun fire hit the house - throwing those the bullets hit backward. There was screaming, cries of pain and terror. A few grabbed weapons and charged into the night only to be cut down. There was gunfire from the second floor as others stood their ground - firing back with uncanny accuracy at their executioners.

Gjord spun Gilbert around, directing him back toward the main entrance. He was yelling something and finally the albino caught on. Then out of the flames another figure appeared.

"ADLER!" Gilbert yelled, racing toward the General who was struggling to keep Volker on his feet. "The back-"

"I know! Soldiers - to me!"

It seemed like they came out of the woodwork - rallying to their leader once he called for them.

"Got it!" A woman yelled, brandishing a heavy crate filled with clinking jars. "Take em and go!"

Gilbert looked as the lid was thrown off and was the first to move. Grabbing the thick bottle he pulled it from the crate.

"Wait until my mark!" Adler screamed over the roar of the inferno. Gilbert felt like he was burning alive - realizing with horror that he was. Red-orange flames were crawling up the sleeve of his jacket and he quickly put them out - the burning feeling remaining long after as he stared down in shock at the blackened cloth.

How long were they going to wait? Gilbert couldn't stand it!

There was cursing, crying and screaming. The fire of guns and stench of burned flesh and the smell of gas canisters filling the house.

"NOW!"

The sound of the flying home-made missiles lasted only a second and was followed by crashes and explosions outside. Charging outward after the Molotov's the remainder of Shield opened fire on their evil twin faction, driving a wedge out of the blaze and into the darkness of night. As he left Gilbert caught a glance of a red-bearded man, a mug in one hand and a gun in the other lying back on the couch he had been on before.

Out of the house Prussia's eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness - time he didn't have with bullets flying around his head and screeching past his ears. The frigid night gave them no mercy except darkness as the group fled into the thick forests. Above the moon periodically peered through clouds and cast it's pale blue light down onto the snow-covered world below. There was a hush in the forest that would have been remarkable had it not been freezing.

As Gilbert ran his heart thudded with anxiety. In the confusion he realized that the only people he knew now were Gjord, Volker, and the woman who'd supplied their 'ammunition'. Alder was nowhere to be seen. The outlaws raced on through darkened woods; moon obscured by clouds and the light of the burning house fading behind them as the distance grew. There was the smell of fire still in the air and the acrid smell of the gas used to control riots - the smell had managed to soak into Gilberts' clothes and now it burned on his sweat and inflamed the scorched skin on his left arm.

Somewhere along the way Gilbert picked up an injured man who was desperately trying to run with what feeble strength he had.

They seemed to run forever, the sounds fading into the distance with the light. It was eerily quiet in the darkness and with the fear of imminent death around them the world seemed blacker than it ever had been before.

Gilbert felt deep in his soul that he should have known. Something told him he should have known. But he ignored it. To run was to live and for now that was what mattered.

As they crossed over a shallow stream Gilbert stopped.

"You mind?" He called to the man on his back. "I have to put you down a second."

When there was no response he quickly set the soldier on the ground, his back to a thick pine. The second he confirmed there was no pulse he bit back a mournful moan and turned away, not allowing tears to fog his vision.

"Hey!" The woman yelled, having realized he wasn't following her any longer. "You, kid!"

"Kid my ass!" Gilbert growled, picking up several rocks and placing them in his pocket. With a human throwing them they were pretty lame. But an ex-nation throwing them with a little 'extra' and the guy that got hit wouldn't be limping home afterwards. "I'm older than all of you combined!"

Gjord turned around. "Stop it! Let's move!"

"Where's Adler?" Gilbert yelled, looking around. "We need to get him."

"We hav' t' go!" Gjord shouted back, shifting Volker on his back. The young man winced as he was moved but still carried his pistol in his good hand. With one last look behind him, Gilbert followed as he was told - racing through the forest.

_This old familiar forest...I know this...I should be taking the lead..._

So he did, guiding the pockets of soldiers as they all met up toward what he felt was their best chance - north and east. Toward Belarus.

And slowly, all the while he felt a strange tingling in his body - as if he were coming alive again.

* * *

There was a commotion when Adler came back.

He was beaten, bloodied and torn leading a small band of survivors with him. The girl that had helped Gilbert and Gjord get out of the woods looked like she was about to cry when she saw him. Gilbert wondered absently if they had a thing going on.

_If it was Elizaveta she'd insist it were Gjord and him instead. _

He shook his head. Gilbert didn't need that image after everything else.

While the blond woman tended to the leader of this bruised and battered band Gilbert wandered through the halls of what he'd been told was safe-house X - the others being declared too dangerous to occupy. There was a little old Polish woman who lived there and once she'd seen a group of soldiers on her door she'd fought tooth and nail to keep them out. That was until she realized they had injured and were a group of 12 being fended off by one old lady with a broom.

Needless to say, her pity was appreciated and though she muttered and yelled at them in her native tongue for the slightest of aggravations she nonetheless treated their wounds.

Gilbert knew this would be the end of the fight for many of the safe house survivors. The injured would go to the hospital and then to the police.

The dead would go to the morgue.

The living would go on as best they could - disappearing into the unforgiving forest and hopefully survive.

Gilbert was able to go to Adler's side sometime later, walking softly past the other soldiers who had also take refuge in the room. A few looked up at him with curious eyes and he realized it was because his jacket had been left in the main room when he'd had a bullet wound he hadn't felt happen and the burn on his arm that he had treated. His leg didn't hurt at all it seemed.

But Adler lie there sleeping fitfully. The medic had survived...or one of them at least. And his stash had been enough to cure most of their ills. From what the doc was saying Adler had been sick to begin with. Now with an injury and the cold it was sure to become bronchitis. But if he stayed with the injured that would be the end of Shield faction.

There were others, other safe houses. They'd moved once Gjord had broken their self-imposed silence and telephoned the others. Total, Shield had an estimated 184 members alive in at least two other safe houses. Who knew how many could still fight.

At the beginning of the night they had 340. Their enemies had attacked all the safe-houses they had known of at once. In the case of the main one there had been no warning and the casualties had been high - they'd had 73 people just a few hours ago. Now they had 17 that were 'breathing and blinking' in the words of the medic. Maybe five of those could fight.

Sword had 579 and growing every day thanks to their connections in low places.

But now he thought of Adler, this messy haired rogue. The General almost seemed to have a light about him, even with a deathly pallor on his skin. In fact, most of those who had fought seemed changed. Not that their mood was bright - far from it - they just seemed to...glow. As if they were highlighted with some hidden spotlight in a very subtle way.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes, and then widened them. Turning away, he desperately sought out a hidden corner. Finally finding one he stood, gasping for air.

He could feel again without numbness.

Breathe again without pain.

The ailments of a fading body were gone and he could have sworn his leg was already mostly healed after just a few hours. And that glow...a glow only a nation saw, and only for their own people.

Putting a hand to his face Gilbert shivered. "No...that's my imagination...it's not..."

_Ludwig._

First his mind flickered to the bearded man who had surely burned up with the house. A wave of guilt crashed over him.

_If I'd been paying attention I might have heard them coming. Shit...I could have done more...was he still alive when I left? I don't know...damn it. And how do I tell Helmut?_

He wondered what to say to a brother who's lost their sibling. And so his mind turned to _his_ Ludwig.

_I should have known._

_I did...but why?_

_Ludwig._

It was a moment of clarity. Enlightenment. Suddenly raising his hands to his head Gilbert clutched at his silver hair, pulling tightly as a strangled cry left his mouth. Gasping with his mouth agape he fell back against the wall, sliding down until he landed on the floor. Dropping his hands, he slowly pulled himself in - tucking his legs to his chest and burying his head in his knees.

_It all makes sense now...I know why I know...Luddy..._

Of course he'd heard of such a horrible crime before - to set a house ablaze having trapped people inside.

He'd known shortly after they had invaded Poland. But he'd never understood till that moment.

It was one thing to imagine how horrible being sent to your death like that - as if you were nothing more than trash to be rid of - might feel. It was another thing to live through it.

So sitting in the corner of a crowded little home, hoping that these murderers hadn't followed them there he cried for the first time in a long time. He cried for himself, for the people who had died and lived.

And he cried for his little brother.

* * *

**Authors Note: **

Too...much...going on...

I thought summer was supposed to be my slow time of year? To relax and do what I want?  
No. That's a lie. So totally not true...

Tidbits of ( weird ) wisdom from the author!

1) Don't shoot someone in the back at point range with a paintball gun and then tell them to surrender. If you do then you officially suck.

2) Frozen Foxholes are cold and therefore also suck.

3) CS gas sucks more than a frozen foxhole. Just check out wikipedia and read the possible risks of CS gas in an enclosed area. Now see how the US military uses it in basic.

*shakes head*

_America: What? It builds character!_

In any case, I'm so sorry for the late chapter. Thank you for reading my oft-off schedule work!


	12. Lies

"So...you want Ludwig to be your bodyguard?"

"Like...yeah?"

Since when did Roderick own fluffy slippers or a plush housecoat; Feliks wondered.

When the wide eyed Pole had first announced the whole 'bodyguard' thing Ludwig had gone through a total freak out. No joking, a thorough expression of absolute and utter insanity had ensued.

First, he'd given this long drawn out. "NEEEEEEEEEEEINNN!" That made it sound like he'd been offered a marriage proposal.

Again. Ew.

Then Ludwig had gone off into; "This is completely irresponsible! Nein! I absolutely cannot become your bodyguard – have you gone insane? Why on earth would you even want Me as your bodyguard? Have you considered the international implications of this action? Did you think about how this might look through public relations or if it would help or harm relationships between our governments?"

Ten minutes later when Ludwig finally ran out of breath he gave another yell and stomped out – looking for Roderick.

Feliciano had poked his head out of his room, stared owlishly at Feliks, then slowly shut the door. The kid wasn't as brainless as most people thought he was.

All and all it was a complete overreaction if you asked Feliks.

Which no-one did.

Instead they got Roderick who was now seated across from him sipping tea like he did this all the freaking time.

"I don't think it's at all wise." The aristocrat grumbled.

"I, like, totally didn't ask what you thought. Kay?"

Roderick scowled. "I know. You lack that forethought. I would have told you it was madness to think that _Ludwig_ could guard you of all people. You'd be better off asking Russia to do that."

Feliks bristled. "I don't ask Russia for ANYTHING but what is owed to me."

Though he seemed momentarily taken aback by the venom in the Polish nations words he soon recovered and heaved a heavy sigh. "Fair enough I suppose. However; Ludwig is not an acceptable option. Surely there are other nations who could fulfill that role."

With a grunt Feliks leaned back into the posh red leather. Actually it was more maroon. But that was totally okay anyway. The small blond knew that this idea wouldn't go over well. Thankfully he'd made Ludwig promise not to tell anyone. Unfortunately Feliks had to agree to an exception - Roderick.

"Look, like, Austria. If it's a problem with our past-"

"It is."

"Let me finish..." Feliks ground out, thoroughly annoyed that he was interrupted. "I mean, I know he was some sort of model of German-ness back in the second war but he's his own man now. He's should be free of totally stupid stereotypes like that."

Roderick set his tea down slowly, as if he were afraid to break it. "You think that? Of course you wouldn't know."

"Know?"

"How it became the ideal – or rather why the leadership of the time was so dead set on that being the ideal."

Feliks frowned. "Yeah...I don't know."

Roderick gave a quiet and unusually refined clearing of his throat, folding his hands on his crossed knees. "There are many reasons. Most have to do with myth or a false interpretation of history. Others with pseudo-science. However; the most damaging reason for Ludwig came the day that...the day _he_ became Chancellor of Germany. Ludwig was nervous to meet him - I don't blame him. Gilbert tried to joke about it but he was nervous as well I know."

"You met _him_?" Feliks whispered, looking sideways at the man. Roderick looked away quickly. "He was my boss at one point after the annexation. So ja, _we've met_." There was a distinct cord of displeasure in the nations voice – he seemed to hate the very idea.

The Polish man nodded._ He seems far from happy about it too. Totally._

"But it was the day they met that Ludwig remembers most in his mind – and what he blames himself for the most despite it being outside of his control." The Austrian continued even as his violet eyes filled with a somber darkness. "He can't forgive himself…because he believes that if he – wasn't himself – that the war would not have happened. That perhaps the idiotic notions of race superiority might have died before they could consume the landscape."  
Feliks couldn't help but prod. Leaning forward, his emerald eyes scanned the man in front of him warily. "So. What did he do or not do that makes him totally think he's responsible."

Roderick took a deep breath.

"He confirmed a lie."

* * *

"Stop fidgeting."

Roderick cast a quick and disapproving glare over at Prussia who stood by the closed window staring out into the street – his look not unlike a teacher who is finding the normal unruly student to be particularly annoying that day. The state of Prussia had been a little less tolerant than normal today of 'annoyances'. It was just a sign of his anxiety.

"Don't mind him Ludwig." Roderick calmly explained as he returned to the task at hand. "He's as nervous as you are even if he doesn't admit it. Personally I wish you the best. Both of you."

Gilbert only shrugged but remained silent this time. As he finished fixing his cousins tie Roderick returned the talk to the weather, their plans for dinner – anything but the current situation. The two brothers had been called up by the President of the Republic to meet at this building on very short notice for a very important issue. They hadn't been told what it was of course, but they had a good idea. On Saturday, January 28 1933 the former Chancellor had been relieved of his position.

Everyone was tense, no one knew what was going to happen and it seemed like the end of the Weimar Republic had finally and quite suddenly arrived; though none would say it was unexpected. Rumors abounded. Some young upstart from Bavaria was demanding the position for himself; others thought that a rebellion or push for power might come from the Army to install a dictatorship.

On the following day there'd been more 'good news'. That Sunday workers flooded into the Lustgartgarten – a hundred thousand of them! They were against making the upstart from Bavaria Chancellor and weren't afraid to show it. The group had even tried to organize a joint operation with the Army if he were named.

In Gilberts words. "This is absurd! I can't believe our system is this defunct."

"Just keep your head up." Roderick spoke low and soothingly to his cousin who seemed nothing more than a nervous wreck. "I know…" The Austrian spoke hesitantly, finally feeling he could return to the subject at hand. "I know that today is going to be a very important day for you. The last few years…"

At this Roderick looked away. "It's been rough for both of you. I know, I've watched you suffer through all this. But…we have to keep our heads up. We have to make things better in the future."

"Easy for you to say." Gilbert grumbled from the window. "Your government is actually stable. Ours is like a house of cards- it's irritating."

"Nevertheless." Roderick stated firmly as he adjusted his glasses. "Please try to work with whatever government manifests. Your people are counting on this."

With a heavy sigh Gilbert nodded. "Ja. I'll try to play nice with the new boss. Whoever the hell they pick. I can't believe they haven't even told US yet! We arrived at noon! We still haven't been told anything!" Thoroughly annoyed, Gilbert returned to staring out the window. His lanky form leaned against the frame with his back to the other two nations. "This is ridiculous."

There was a clatter at the door, snapping all three to look at the men who were now entering. Roderick placed a hand on Ludwig's shoulder - in his own way trying to comfort him – before he excused himself from the room. Outside he walked past the President and exchanged brief pleasantries, said a quick hello to the man following him and continued on his way. Near the end of the hall however he paused as another man passed him.

Looking back over his shoulder Roderick hesitated, not quite sure of what he'd seen. Realizing that this was a matter of internal affairs for his cousins Roderick decided it was best if he let it be.

* * *

Gilbert moved away from the window to stand beside his brother – still looking every bit as confident and snarky as he normally did. It was a good façade.

The man in front was familiar. Hindenburg regarded the two nations with his usual critical eye – unsurprised to see the brothers there. He gave a passing gaze specifically at Prussia who winked at the white haired President. If there was a smile on Hindenburg's part it was hidden by his curved white mustache.

Beside him stood Franz von Papen who looked unusually pleased with himself. For a moment Gilbert and Ludwig shared a look.

_Don't tell me he's the new Chancellor…_

But it was the third man to enter the room that caught the brothers' eyes.

"I would like to inform you two first of all that I have chosen a new Chancellor." At this Hindenburg's expression faltered just a moment, betraying his displeasure with his decision. Turning slightly he motioned to the man behind him, bringing him to the front.

The newcomer had quick dark eyes that flicked back and forth as he cautiously regarded the two men in front of him – as if not quite sure what to make of the situation. However nervous he might be there was an energy about him that gave one the impression of him being extremely pleased with the way things were going.

"This is your new Chancellor, Mr. Adolph Hitler. You will be working with him in the future. Let us hope that we can now move forward with our nation and out of the turmoil we have thus far seen."

Though the old President seemed honest in his words there was the feeling between Ludwig and Gilbert that he wasn't completely 'on board' with his pick.

"Now." Hindenburg turned to the new Chancellor, voice lowering seriously. "There is a reason I want to introduce these two young men to you. This is something that every man in your position must come to terms with and perhaps you may or may not have felt all along." Taking a breath the president continued. "Our nations live. Not in the pages of history books or old records but in flesh and bone. They breathe; sleep – live as we mortal men live. And yet…they are not entirely mortal themselves for their life is tied to their land and to their people. Do you understand?"

The man to his left shook his head a moment. "No. You mean that nations have life? That they live? Forgive me if I seem incredulous but that sounds far fetched."

The older man gave a wry smirk that was barely visible beneath his waxed white mustache. "I said the same thing. It can't be possible! How can a nation be solid like a man! And yet…they are. And these two are of utmost importance to our people."

Gilbert sighed. "So. Did you understand that time? Forgive me for my interrupting but my brother and I have not slept in nearly three days. We would like to retire to our quarters as soon as possible."

The attention of the three men snapped to the Prussian who shrugged.

"Gilbert." Ludwig hissed lowly. "Behave yourself. We are in the presence of our President and Chancellor."

The albino rolled his eyes and sighed. "Look. I'm getting far too old for this. I don't have any patience left."

The president gave a chuckle. "You never change do you Mr. Beilschmidt? In all the years I have worked for your nation-ship you have remained the same."

"So I've been told." Gilbert grinned. "Old man Fritz used to say the same thing!"

"I'll take that as a compliment then." President Hindenburg continued.

With a sort of wide-eyed confusion Hitler looked at the president, wondering if his growing senility had finally caught up with him. The president noticed the look and held out his hand toward the white haired man.

"This is Mr. Gilbert Beilschmidt. He is the embodiment of the nation of Prussia. Or in other words, he is Prussia in a pure, solid and tangible form. He is a personification. Anything that happens to the nation happens to him. And likewise, what happens to him befalls the nation. It is of utmost importance that his person remains intact and unharmed for any harm done to Mr. Beilschmidt will affect the land itself."  
Gilbert waved. "Hello."

"And this-" President Hindenburg continued as he moved forward toward the two nations. "This is Ludwig Beilschmidt; he is the embodiment of Germany. The same laws that apply to Prussia also apply to him as well."

To Ludwig and Gilbert it seemed as if the man walking toward them with his combed black hair and strange little mustache had been struck silent. He looked from one to the other as if expecting them to vanish any moment.

"I don't believe it. You expect me to believe that this…that these are the nations? They are human like we are?"

"Not exactly like we are." Papen corrected Hitler, a smirk on his face. "I went through the same thing. Denial, denouncement. But this is no trick, no joke. They are real and furthermore, they are our nation."

Ludwig nodded. "I suspect this is a little confusing and unbelievable. But rest assured that we are ready and willing to work."

"I am more willing for a nap." Gilbert sighed. His flippant reaction earned a scowl from the new Chancellor. The nation snorted. "Hey kid. If you need an army, call me. If not, Luddy handles the paperwork." With a shrug Gilbert turned to look out the window across the room. "Are we finished or is there more?"

"You know, you are impossible." Ludwig grumbled. "For only this short amount of time I ask you to behave and yet…ach. What is wrong with you?"

"What do you want from me?" Gilbert hissed back, a mock effort at trying to be quiet. "Look, I'm not meant for all this bureaucratic stuff. You can't just get rid of three hundred years of habits okay? Man. I still wish I could just go running through the woods hitting Lithuania with acorns again. Let me tell you that guy could take an arrow!"

"Would you leave our neighbors alone?" Ludwig sighed, rubbing his temples. "And stop harassing Austria – you know how irritated he gets when you break into his home."

"Our cousin lives in a mansion, he should learn to share."

"Gilbert…never mind."

For the second time that afternoon the new Chancellor looked to the President. The President only nodded. "This is quite normal for them."

Ludwig dropped his argument with his brother and returned to the matter at hand.

"I'm sorry for my brother's rash speech. To be honest, neither at us has been feeling well due to the economic situation and I think he's just reacting badly to it. But…I can sense you still don't believe us."

"I don't see why I should. I respect the Presidents word-" Hitler spared a glance at the old man. "However; I do not accept such things without proof."

"Understandable." Ludwig nodded, extending his hand in greeting. After a moment the former Corporal took it.

He paused, as if his mind had been transported far away. For a moment he stared unblinkingly into space. Then with an almost physical joke he recovered himself, staring up at the taller man. "That was…Munich?"

Ludwig nodded. "Yes. I heard that you spent time there so I was sure you would recognize it."

There was a silence between the two as the new Chancellor looked up at the nation he had always dreamed of – idolized. This was the culmination of fourteen years of hard labor that was only a dream on the streets of Vienna.

And now, this tall and striking blond man with eyes as blue as the sky had been revealed as the true face of Germany.

They spoke for a time, but not too long. Hitler had proclaimed that there was so much to do – his party would no doubt be waiting to hear the news. So he reluctantly left the nations behind in the corner room, eyes filled with joyous tears.

Gilbert sighed. "Well, that went well. So, you get a read on him?"

Ludwig paused. "Yes. I got a 'read'."

"Does he seem like he'll work?"

The man nodded slowly, trying to organize the scattered thoughts in his mind. Whether the new Chancellor felt 'okay' or not was totally irrelevant – they would have to work with him either way. And there was something there…something he'd picked up.

"Hey…Luddy? You alright?"

"Yes. Let's go home."

It was later that evening, as the sun set itself low in the sky and the sound of thousands of men marching in columns began to echo through the air to the pulse of drums beating out the old martial tunes that Ludwig realized that his world had changed.

There was a current that the two felt, he and his brother as they watched a column of torch-bearing storm troopers march their way down Wilhelmstrasse that was indescribable. They could feel the anticipation and joy of their citizens.

And yet…there was something there that Ludwig couldn't put his finger on.

All he knew was that the world had indeed changed, but only time itself could tell how drastic and shocking that change would turn out to be.

* * *

"He blames himself for confirming a lie. But he didn't do it on purpose! It wasn't his fault!" Feliks exclaimed. "It's like; totally not Ludwig's fault that the nut job decided that he was like, totally the pinnacle of what Germans should be!"

"I know that." Roderick explained wearily. "I've told him again and again but he still feels responsible."

The Austrian looked tired, his own mind now in turmoil at being forced to remember that days events. Even he had his second thoughts – wonderings of what he could have done different that might have changed things. But it was pointless, just as pointless as ever. So he returned to the well trodden conversation.

"Ludwig thinks that maybe if he were something else, like his brother then it might have changed Hitler's mind about what a German was. But seeing Ludwig only confirmed it in that mad-mans mind. That's why Ludwig feels personally responsible for everything that happened as a result of that war."

Roderick reached for his tea-cup again. "Furthermore…because of who he was Ludwig was ordered into the heart of many a fight." The last word seemed to take on a more ominous ring to it with the way it had been spoken, implying something darker than open combat.

"I'm sure you remember." He finished, setting his cup back down.

Feliks looked away, the memories of 1939 coming back. "Yeah…I remember. So that was on the assholes orders? I wondered why he came in person. But…he was different then."

"How so?" Austria asked, as if already knowing the answer and simply trying to give Feliks an opportunity to say what was on his mind. The Polish man leaned further into the couch as if trying to hide himself in the cushions.

"He changed…by the time he came to my house he was different. I remember Ludwig from the first war – he would have never done what he did back then! How could he change in just a few years?"

With a deep breath, Roderick spoke slowly. "Have you heard of something called a takeover?"

Feliks shook his head.

"It's when the political and ideological viewpoint of the people finds its way into a nations mind. The mind of the nation and the people are connected after all. So, if enough people believe something, then the nation believes it as well."

"Yeah. I, like, kind of knew that." Feliks frowned. "You're saying that was why he changed so quickly? His people changed to accept that load of crap – and so his mind changed as a result?"

Feliks stood up and paced around the couch before continuing.

"So. He really did want me to die back then didn't he? Even if it was against his will. It wasn't just a ruse or going along with what his boss said…he meant it on some twisted level."

"That's why I said that Ludwig being your bodyguard is unacceptable. Feliks…" Roderick hesitated a moment before continuing. "That same process can still happen again. In fact, it may already have."

"So he didn't learn the first time." Feliks fumed, gripping his arms tightly. "He totally didn't even learn. How could he? Does that guy even have any idea how much being torn apart and having your people massacred hurts? Can he understand that?"

"Of course he understands it! That's why he declined!" Roderick countered.

"Bullshit! He doesn't know! How could he?"

"Idiot! If anyone knows how much it hurts it's _him_! We _all _know it!"

Feliks paused, at first ready to argue until he saw the pained and angry expression on the Austrians face. The man looked about at his wits end as he slowly sat back down.

"Idiot…we all know how much it hurts. That's the problem! You think that only you suffered."

Feliks narrowed his eyes as he thought about it.

The war had hurt so much, he could feel his kids dying by the thousands and nothing he did eased the pain. It was always there, like a disease eating you from the inside – a cancerous decay. And the pain was more than enough to make you want to scream and never stop. It was unbearable…

With a frown Feliks moved back to the couch and sat down with a heavy thud.

_He said that they know…how could they? I mean, my people were dying by the thousands while Germany's…_

Feliks' eyes widened. "You're kidding me."

"What?" Austria asked, his voice carrying a harsh edge.

Feliks couldn't blame him if what he'd just realized were actually true.

"He…the pain I felt when _my_ people were killed." Feliks asked, trying to keep his voice steady and calm despite the closing of his throat at the remembrance of it all. "So…when _his own_ people were killed…all of you…"

"Yes…both I and to a lesser degree Prussia felt it as well."

"A lesser degree?"

Roderick closed his eyes a moment, appearing drained of energy.

"Gilbert was dissolved as a nation by the government. Therefore his title, land and people were reverted to Ludwig's protection. Gilbert still felt a connection with the people…but I don't think he ever realized that he couldn't feel everything. The main burden fell to Ludwig."

At this Roderick rose, the tension becoming too much for him.

"I'm going for another cup of tea. Would you like any?"

Feliks stared into his empty cup.

* * *

"Hey Luddy…you alright?"

"Y-yes…it's just…battle fatigue."

Gilbert frowned as he watched his brother try to sleep, the blonds face scrunching in pain every few moments before relaxing as some of it eased away. This had been happening a lot lately. That big lug of a brother of his was showing all the signs of a nation loosing a considerable percentage of their population – but so far as Gilbert had been told nothing unusual was going on.

Though…he could feel some weird prickles sometimes. Like something _should_ be hurting but wasn't. Maybe it was just duller now that he wasn't a nation anymore.

"We're not loosing our soldiers are we?"

The response was slow in coming, taking several seconds before Ludwig answered. "N-no. We're not. Casualties – ah…- on the front are low."

_He couldn't be more vague if he tried. _The Prussian mused bitterly. Gilbert only watched from across the room, tapping his boot on the floor.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He flicked some lint from his brown shirt. Stupid boss making him wear this stupid uniform – his old one was just fine! It seemed like everything had changed, new medals, new uniforms, new marches, new songs, new history, new future…not a single thing was left without the Nazi stamp on it anymore.

The blonde on the couch twitched again, stifling the quick hiss that Gilbert was sure he'd been about to make. "Yes. I'll be fine. This is…necessary."

"Will you tell me what's wrong then?"

Slowly, Ludwig rose from his bed and stumbled to the dresser. Gilbert sighed.

"Just tell me what's wrong Ludwig! I can't help if I don't know!"

"You couldn't help if you did." Ludwig stated firmly, blue eyes obviously clouded with pain. He grabbed his contraband cigarettes and hid them in his pocket. It wasn't like he was going to be searched for them – even though he'd been strictly ordered to stop smoking as it "was not a good example for the German people."

_Funny. All the bad examples are why I smoke in the first place_.

Unfortunately it did not ease the pain in his bones and flesh. The strongest pills on earth could do nothing for that.

"This is something our Fuhrer has deemed necessary."

"That's not telling me a damn thing." The albino snapped, moving from his place against the desk. The two stared across the room at each other in silence for a moment even as Ludwig began pulling on his uniform, slipping into the black jacket and boots. He'd realized that trying to rest a bit would be fruitless and that there was no sense in delaying the inevitable any longer.

"I'm leaving for the East. Don't-"

"I know." Gilbert interrupted him with a sigh. "Don't tell Feli. _I_ still would like to know myself though."

"No…" Ludwig muttered as he fixed his cap, eyeing the death's-head mark ominously.

"You wouldn't."

* * *

**Authors Note:**

This.

Is.

Getting.

So.

Dark.

(flops onto couch)

_Feliks: Like, you're the one writing it._

I know.

_Feliks: But, it's not like you can totally stop right now or anything. That'd be totes not cool. _

I know.

_Feliks: Can I go dress shopping next chapter?_

Whaaaaa?

Let me know if I got anything wrong here. Thanks for reading!


	13. Transition

There was a handsome wooden clock on the wall, carved with intricate leaves and small hidden birds that seemed to peek out from behind polished wooden berries.

It was beautifully annoying - the clock that reminded Gilbert he was still awake.

His stomach felt twisted and uncomfortable from the realizations and traumas of the last few hours and the Prussian wondered what home and warmth and safety felt like. Of course, it had just been yesterday that he'd been in Berlin arguing with his brother. That worry-wort brother of his. Would he see Ludwig again?

Yesterday might as well be on the other side of the universe with the way he felt right now.

Because of a pain in his leg and quiet shuffling of renegade soldiers moving to and fro through the small house and the ticking of a rustic clock on the wall and a million horrible nightmares waiting at the edge of his mind he couldn't sleep. So finally giving up on the whole endeavor he pulled himself to his aching feet and hobbled over toward the door at the end of the hall. He hadn't been in there since a few hours ago when he'd found a nice corner to hole up in so he could at least have a mental breakdown in relative peace. Gilbert was still angry it had happened in the first place - he was supposed to be strong. If he couldn't be there for...

He paused at the door.

_Yeah. My kids...they're my kids now. Great...should I laugh or cry? I don't have a fucking clue._

There was no escaping it; Prussia was back - but in terrible danger of either being wiped off the face of the earth in the blink of an eye or ending up transformed into a dark menace that would terrify the world once more. Either situation seemed to inevitably end up with his newest kids dead.

Sliding open the heavy door, Gilbert peeked in. His crimson eyes glanced from side to side, taking in the sight of the injured soldiers sleeping as well as could be imagined after their harrowing disaster.

Adler was carefully tucked into the only bed in the house, the medic half-asleep at his side. The man startled a bit, nearly losing his glasses when he realized someone had entered the room, but upon seeing Gilbert he merely nodded and closed his eyes again - only staying awake long enough to make sure his most important patient was still alive.

The blonde woman was perched on the other side of the bed, sleeping fitfully with one hand on the Generals chest as if to keep watch in her dreams. Gilbert couldn't help but notice how most of those assembled had their backs to the bed as if standing guard.

From behind him the door opened and Volker entered, whispering something back to the old woman behind him.

_He looks like shit. Dear God, he shouldn't even be walking! Didn't he get shot?_

Volker, with only a curt nod to Gilbert, hobbled his way through the tangle of sleeping bodies toward Adler - exchanging quick and low words with the medic before moving to wake his commander. The woman on the other end of the bed woke before Adler did, growling just as the injured General opened his eyes.

"Hey boss. News from the front."

Adler gave a coughing laugh. "It's time isn't it?"

"It's started to snow. We've got about an hour before police arrive so we need to move now."

"I understand. You and Gjord know what to do. Get everyone up - those who can't move need to be carried."

"Of course, sir."

Gilbert helped as best he could. Volker communicated in Polish with the old woman, speaking low and comfortingly as the soldiers filed out of her home. Though she seemed relieved there was a hint of anxiety in her body. The Prussian understood enough of her native tongue to know she was worried not about herself but rather the wounded and weary who would only face the cruel cold of winter on the other side of the door. But Adler had a plan - or rather, Gjord had the plan and Adler reluctantly agreed to it.

Trampling away from the safe-house, a few of the healthier soldiers filled in the single-file tracks with snow - trusting the freshly fallen powder cover them. They had those who were healthy enough jog backwards down the road, and then forwards to the rest of the group as often as they could while the injured hobbled away from the small home in an effort to get a good head-start on their healthier members.

The plan was simple: convince the police that they'd walked the entire way without stopping - especially not at an old house where an old woman had helped them.

Gilbert cracked a slight smile in remembrance of Gjord's heavily accented words.

_"We can't let 'er take th' blame f'r us. Not w'th Sword."_

That much they could all agree to. The police would only arrest the old woman - Sword would torture and then kill her if they got half the chance.

As they made their way out; covering their tracks, they hit the solid ground of the road and began walking along it away from the house.

True to Volker's prediction, about fifty or so minutes later a scout flagged the lead group as government and police vehicles approached. With a deep breath the General stopped a moment to survey his troops, and then turned to the men at his side.

"Will you all be alright?" Adler asked, voice low and serious as he whispered to Volker who only chuckled.

"Of course, I'm going with you."

"The hell you are!" Adler snapped, humor now gone. "You're injured!"

"So are you."

"You know I can't leave!" The leader hissed. Now the scouts were disappearing into the forest, urging the small party that would carry on to do the same. Gilbert grit his teeth and grabbed the hesitant General by his shoulder. As much as he didn't want to be the bad guy here they simply didn't have time.

"Adler." Gilbert spoke stiffly. "Look. We need to get out of here if we're going. Alright?"

With glowering pale brown eyes the man stared at him only a minute before nodding.

"Ja. Alright." After a slight pause he spoke out to the soldiers assembled. "I want every one of you to co-operate with the police. They have rules, laws. While I doubt you'll be treated with enthusiastic joy at least you won't die under their watch."

The lot chuckled wryly, trying to keep their spirits up.

"Get out of here." One of the injured - a young man of twenty or so waved his commander on. "If you're caught with us those assholes get Prussia."

Gilbert flinched, acknowledging that statement was all too true on too many uncomfortable levels.

Adler noticed and nodded. "Right. Gjord, Gilbert, Dietrich, Hedda...and you as well Volker. God knows you'll follow me even if I tell you to stay."

"Damn right." Volker growled as he staggered forward as best he could.

As the police closed in on the shuffling, shambling crowd that forged on through the deepening snow a small group of five disappeared into the woods - tracks carefully hidden. From a safe vantage Adler watched with saddened eyes as his forces were surrounded. Each soldier raised their hands in surrender to the best of their ability - accepting their capture without question just as he had ordered.

Gilbert felt a twisting in his own stomach that he could only guess was similar to what the messy haired General beside him was experiencing. While he was glad that they would be in custody and at least cared for it didn't ease the burden that he now felt land squarely on those left.

When the two scouts rejoined their party the seven set off into the lightening Polish forest.

The sun was rising.

* * *

It was a short but sweet text from his boss man. They'd managed to round up a group of soldiers (some old woman had called the police apparently) and had them in custody.

"Though that's totally weird about that house my kids found..." Feliks mused.

The man on the other end of the line sighed. "From what the prisoners have stated the murders were committed by a splinter cell of their group. A civil war between factions as it were. Looks like the guys caught in Germany and the group responsible for the burned out farmhouse are in on it together."

"Man...so they're totally not above taking out their own guys then?"

"I don't think the ones we picked up are 'their own'. From the way the suspects tell it this 'Sword' faction is a little...fascist. To hear these guys talk sounds like Sword walked right out of the Third Reich and right into our back yard. They'll bring hell into this world if they get the chance."

Feliks scowled. "We won't give them the chance. So what does that make this Shield group then?"

The voice on the other end of the line sighed. "They're full of fight themselves. They want to re-establish the nation of Prussia. Though it seems they dislike the idea of killing civilians or using genocide to do it - so they're at least human compared to Sword faction."

Feliks nodded to the phone. "Thank you for keeping me informed."

"Of course, sir."

The blonde clacked the phone closed as he waited outside of Germany's house.

_So, like. These two groups are fighting over control of Prussia? Like, this is totally going to get annoying. I mean, Prussia's only a dick most of the time. The other, like, ten percent he's just a moron. This is totally going to suck. But then again, I'd rather have a totally open and democratic idiot for a neighbor then a re-creation of __**that**__._

Feliks suppressed a shiver. It must be the cold air. Really.

_So Sword factions going all fascist and junk and Shield faction is actually getting the crap kicked out of them while totally trying to protect some of my civilians - despite the fact that they were totally for breaking the law too and trying to give weird human-nation birth to Prussia and __**where the heck is GERMANY?**_

"Like, hurry up! It's totally freezing out here!" Feliks yelled at the front door of the house. He would have loved to be invited in like a normal human being but Ludwig was all "I'll be right back so stay here and don't go into the flower-bed."

What was he, a stray? Sit and stay?

Like, fuck that.

So with only a moments glance to check the scene Feliks opened the front door and peeked inside. The house was warm, the smell of a fire filling his nostrils as he stood with his head just over the threshold. After another minute he had stepped in completely to thoroughly enjoy the warmth of the home. From outside the house had looked ominous with its old fashioned crossed beams design but now Feliks could see it was quite comfortable - something he hadn't really expected. He wasn't really sure what he had expected actually. It's just that comfortable and Germany didn't really mesh in his mind.

That thought faded away as he walked softly down the narrow entryway and followed the hall further into the house. There were pictures on the wall of his all too weird family, the same as in almost any home you walked into.

There were pictures of Gilbert annoying Ludwig, Gilbert annoying Roderick, Gilbert annoying Elizaveta, Elizaveta hitting Gilbert with a frying pan.

"Like, awesome." Feliks snickered on the last image. Moving away from the family photos the Pole peeked around a corner, finding himself staring right into the kitchen. He could smell a hint of bread and surprisingly cake.

"I didn't figure Germany to be one for sweets." Feliks murmured. He felt a bit bad about wandering into the Germans kitchen but hey, if the guy had invited him in he'd stick to lounging on his couch instead.

A whine at his leg caught his attention - nearly making him jump a foot in the air.

A slightly pudgy German Shepherd wagged its tail and begged with its deep brown eyes for attention.

"Oh...hey." Feliks recovered quickly upon realizing the worst this furry friend might do is cover him in drool. "Like, you're totally a sweetheart you know that?" The young man cooed to the animal as he scratched him behind the ears and under his chin. Taking a moment to latch onto the tags, Feliks turned it up to read.

"Your name is...Blackie. Well hi there!" He laughed, holding out a hand and to his amazement the dog shook it.

"No way! You can shake!" Feliks giggled, wide eyed. Another cold nose bumped him from the side and he found himself nearly toppled by a tail-wagging golden retriever.

"Ah! Hey there big guy! I'm getting, like, mobbed by fur-balls!"

Soon both dogs were rolling on the floor - overjoyed to be getting so much attention. As he had with Blackie, Feliks checked the retriever's tags.

"And you are...Aster. Nice to meet you. You're totally a cutie." At this the man sighed. "You know, I never thought Ludwig would have dogs like you. You two are total pushovers...and kind of pudgy. But that's, like, totes cool though. I mean, I remember-"

A sharp snarl broke the idyllic mood; causing both dogs to jump up and move back. Feliks looked from one to the other, wondering which one had growled but a second growl made him turn his eyes to the kitchen door where a third dog stood - it's lithe and muscular body rigid and nearly trembling with energy. The Doberman lifted its lips in a snarl. Feliks chuckled nervously.

"Oh...hey Berlitz..."

The dog lunged forward, mouth gaping as it attacked. Feliks leapt, jumping as high as he could right as the dog reached him, causing it to skid past on the kitchen floor and into the counter behind him. Two steps and Feliks was thrown to the ground, a searing pain in his leg as the dog clamped on and began pulling him back into the room.

"GET OFF!" Feliks yelled, glaring green eyes locking with Berlitz's a second before he kicked the dog in the ribs, causing it to yelp and release his leg. Feliks threw himself forward in an attempt to escape the dog. With a loud snarl the animal lunged at him again, sharp teeth ready to tear out his throat.

"HALT!"

The dog stopped so quick it skidded a moment on the tile floor, it's jaws shutting with an audible chomp as it dropped to the floor - looking even more confused than Feliks.

Ludwig stood at the door, breathing like he'd run a marathon. Feliks reasoned he might have - he had no idea where the man had been.

Hence, why he'd gone into the house and gotten attacked by psycho-dog.

As the injured nation sat up he felt Ludwig's gaze on him. Feliks could tell he was angry from the way he didn't say anything - his unusual stiffness. The dog was still growling behind him but Feliks didn't want to look.

With a heavy sigh Ludwig knelt down. Slowly he lifted the left leg of Feliks' trousers; the one Berlitz had caught hold of and was now bleeding profusely.

"This might need stitches. I'll bandage it for now but I'll need to call the doctor."

"No!" Feliks shouted suddenly, and then looked away with a guilty expression.

"I mean...it's just a dog bite and I'm a nation so it's totally cool."

Ludwig scowled. "It is not 'cool'. You're injured and need medical assistance."

"So..." The Polish man grumbled. "Can't you just, like, slap a wrap on it or something? I mean, we can't go to the E.R."

"No." Ludwig nodded, further examining the wound. The nation lightly examined the tears in the skin and Feliks winced slightly. "I have my own private doctor not far from here. He can treat you."

"I don't need it."

"You're bleeding all over my tile!"

"I'll buy you new tile!"

"Feliks!" Suddenly Ludwig sighed. "Look. I know you may not like doctors but just this once you should be fine."

The small blond looked continued to stare at his leg. "It's not doctors...it's just..."

With his explanation trailing off into a bare whisper Ludwig slowly came to focus all his attention on the young man. It took only a moment to realize it wasn't what Feliks was saying but what he _wouldn't_. Heaving a resigned groan he shifted then lifted Feliks off of the ground.

"AAHH!"

"Shut up. If you won't go to the hospital I have no choice but to dress it here. There is nothing stronger than aspirin in the house so you'll just have to grin and bear the stitches."

For a moment Feliks was silent, and then he nodded with a slight smile. "Like yeah. You're supposed to be my bodyguard and all. You got to make up for the sucky job you've been doing so far."

"I reserve the right to drop you on your ass at any time."

"I'll totally kick you in the shins if you do."

"Annoying little..." Ludwig grumbled, carrying the man out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. "If you stained my floor there'll be hell to pay."

Ludwig stiffened, wanting to bite his tongue the moment the words slipped out. He hadn't really been thinking about who he was speaking to, but he'd said those words before under very different circumstances. Cautiously, Ludwig glanced over to catch Feliks' expression.

The man in his arms had an almost indescribable face. His wide emerald eyes were latched onto Ludwig's and he was so still the German doubted he was even breathing. Then a shaky smile crossed the Poles face.

Feliks flicked Ludwig off. "Yeah. Like, bring it bitch."

It was utterly absurd, the last time they'd had this exact exchange it had been deadly serious - but now...

Feliks started giggling. Before long he was laughing out loud and even Ludwig had cracked a wary grin. Once they made it to the bathroom Feliks sat on the sink while his strange attendant carefully cleaned and stitched the wound. With his hours of practice, Ludwig managed to finish quickly and the moment the bandage was set he stood.

The doorbell interrupted the steady silence and Ludwig moved to answer it.

"I'm closing the door if that's alright with you." He stated, seeming almost sheepish. Too polite. "That's probably Feliciano. In fact...that's definitely Feliciano. I'll be back in a moment."

"Like, sure." Feliks snorted, waving him on. "Go on. Get to it errand-boy."

Ludwig scowled but left. Feliks sighed. Pulling his legs up to his chest he let go of the breath he felt he'd been holding all this time.

"Freaking stupid..." He mumbled, as he stifled a slight sniffle.

As Ludwig passed the kitchen something caught his eye.

While the other two dogs looked on in confusion, Berlitz lay like a statue fixed to the ground. Only his dark eyes moved to look up at Ludwig questioningly, as if afraid to make direct contact. Slowly, the tall man knelt by the dog and patted him gently on his dark head.

"Alright. I know." He cooed softly. "You made a mistake. _I_ made a mistake for not training that back out of you. You're still a good dog Berlitz."

The Doberman wagged his stub tail, the sparkle returning to his eyes as Ludwig motioned for him to get up. Leading him out to the open yard the German sighed.

"You're a good dog; you just learned some bad tricks."

With the dogs in the yard Ludwig answered the door, nearly bowled over by an over-eager Italian.

"Ludwig! What took so long? Oh? Where are the puppies?"

Ludwig pried the small brunette off of him. "Outside. Poland's here."

"So you agreed to be his bodyguard?"

The taller man stared with mouth open at his friend who only skipped past.

"Poland! Poland! Let's go shopping ve~!"

Feliciano threw open the bathroom door, smiling happily at Feliks who sat on the sink, swinging his legs idly.

"Like, hey there."

"So you really are here then! I wasn't so sure because of everything Mr. Austria told you last time. Do you really want Ludwig to be your bodyguard?"

Feliks' smile slipped only a second. "Sure..."

"That's wonderful!" The Italian shouted, once again forgetting to use his inside voice. "Ludwig's big and strong and kind and-"

"Feliciano." Ludwig sternly interrupted from behind the smaller man. "Calm down and stop yelling."

For a moment the Italian paused, then smiled. "He's super nice - even if he never smiles."

Ludwig rolled his eyes. Returning to his most pressing concern the small brunette waved his arms frantically, nearly hitting both Feliks and Ludwig in the process.

"So you'll go shopping with me? It'll be really really fun! I know all the best shops around here! So pleeaaasee!"

Feliks chuckled. "I'd totally like that Feli but I totes can't just yet. I had a bit of an accident."

For the first time the Italian took notice of the blondes' bandaged leg. He stared at it in curiosity for a moment before looking up, now much more subdued. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Ludwig moved Feliciano out of the room. "Berlitz got a bit too wound up. That's why the dogs are in the yard."

"Really?" the normally happy male whispered. "But I always play with Berlitz and I never get hurt."

The look that passed from Feliks to Ludwig was missed by the Italian who had wandered down the hall.

"I wonder why." Feliks gritted his teeth as he was helped out the door by his new bodyguard.

Ludwig didn't say a word.

After long negotiation ( re. whining ) by the nation of Italy the three made their way to the nearest shopping district. With an abundant source of cash - Germany - and a free run of the stores they soon forgot all of their cares. Ludwig followed the two in an effort to do his newly appointed task of providing security for the nation of Poland but found more often than not that the two were actively hiding from him.

"Where are you two? This is not funny! Come out! Where in the world are they?"

Safe inside the dressing rooms the two listened as Ludwig searched the racks outside.

"Ve~ Ludwig sounds grumpy."

"Like, don't even worry. Just try this on," Feliks ordered, throwing a dress over the top of the stall. "He'll totally go nuts when he sees you in this."

"Really? That might be really funny!" Feliciano laughed. "But I haven't worn anything like this in centuries! Ve~"

"All the more reason to wear it." Feliks encouraged him. "You, like, totally got to look fabulous now and then and you can totally pull that color off."

"Okay. Hey, Feliks?"

"Yeah?" The Pole called back, trying on a totally rockin' skirt of his own. It was soo stylish! He loved the flowers!

"Is your leg okay?"

The mans smile slipped a bit but he mustered up an enthusiastic voice. "Yeah. You know, dogs just act weird sometimes."

"Really weird." Feliciano called back. "I've never had trouble with Berlitz...well...only once. Right before the end of the war."

At this the Italian did something amazing. He stopped talking.

Feliks waited for a continuation of a story that never came. Slipping out of his stall he walked over to the Italians and knocked on the door. "Hey, you okay?" He asked, wondering how it ended up with him comforting Feliciano. Slowly the door opened and the young man nodded, light brown eyes now open for a rare spell as he waved his fellow nation into the stall.

With his leaf green dress and golden flower band Feliciano looked every bit the gentle-lady. Well, except his hairy legs. Feliks made a mental note to get stockings before they left the store.

The small man frowned. "You know, at the end of the war a lot of stuff happened. In the end I had to turn away from Ludwig. Germany and Italy couldn't be friends anymore. That was...really hard for me to do." Feliciano sighed. "That entire war I was useless, I couldn't help at all! The only thing I did good at was turning on my best friend. I was only good at betraying Ludwig. And I know it really hurt him."

Twisting the ends of his dress, Feliciano paused only a moment.

"That was when Berlitz became really mean to me. He wouldn't let me near Ludwig's house. He chased me away and tried to bite me. But he never actually did. He mostly just barked a lot and was really scary."

Feliciano turned to look at his northern neighbor with serious eyes.

"I've never seen Berlitz bite anyone - well except big brother France - but he always did that; just on the butt though. You're the only person I've seen him actually try to hurt. It's kind of scary. Why don't you and Berlitz get along?"

Feliks sighed. He had hoped the conversation wouldn't come to him. So much for luck.

"Feli. We just...like...have a history together. Not a good one either. We totes tried to kill each other back then - during the war." At this Feliciano frowned in confusion. Feliks sighed.

"I shot Berlitz - when Germany was trying to track me down and destroy the last of my army. He totally ran up on our hiding place and it was the only thing I could do at the time."

"So..." Feliciano mused. "He doesn't like you because you shot him?"

"He didn't like me before then. It just, like, made him madder."

"So why didn't he like you before?"

Feliks moved from the wall, turning in a slow circle as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"Because Germany trained him to not like me! He trained him to kill me if he got the chance. Because that's what his boss wanted! He just...never got rid of the training that's all. I haven't exactly been around Germany's house since the war."

Feliciano stood, serious and somber for a rare moment in time.

"It's because of what Ludwig's boss were trying to do back then?" Suddenly the Italian flopped onto the seat at the back of the dressing room. "It's sad. I don't like to think about the past because so many bad things happened then."

Then the man smiled. "Hey! We can untrain Berlitz! Then you can play with him! He's a really good getter! He runs really fast after balls and sticks and stuff! He's really fast!"

Feliks chuckled wryly. "I know. He's like super fast. But I'm faster and I can prove it." With a sigh the Polish man peeked out the door. "I think we better get going. Germany's totally going to blow a gasket in a minute. Plus - we look totally cute!"

"Yep! Let's go show him!"

"Alright!"

Hearing a clatter Ludwig turned towards the dressing rooms.

"Ah! Show yourselves!" He yelled, making the store-clerk look up in annoyance.

"Quiet down." She ordered.

Ludwig was undeterred as he stared at the entryway. Feliciano and Feliks appeared, two fashionista's in short skirts and flirty heels.

"Surprise!" They both yelled.

Feliciano wore his one piece pale green dress with a daisy yellow hair-band and sash around the waist that tied in an adorable bow in the back. His pretty pink and gold stockings sprouted from shiny green heels. Feliks on the other hand wore a hot-pink mini-skirt with a pair of white tights matching a pair of white ankle boots and a white sweater that slipped off of one shoulder - revealing the strap of a pink bra beneath.

"Ta da! How do we look?" The two asked, hopping around.

Tomatoes are red, but Feliciano noted that not near as red as Ludwig's face at that moment. Suddenly the bodyguard stammered something incomprehensible and turned tail and fled.

Feliks shrugged. "Didn't like it huh?"

Feliciano laughed. "Of course he did! Ludwig's face only goes that red when he sees something that makes him really really happy!"

The Polish man laughed. "Really?"

"Yep!" Feliciano giggled as they walked to the counter. "He does that a lot sometimes when he looks at pretty girls or something."

For a moment Feliks blushed as he realized that Ludwig's actions put him and Feliciano in the 'pretty' category. Then he paused.

_Germany thinks I'm pretty...he's very very 'happy'._

_ EEEEEWWWWWWWWW! _

"Ve~ Feliks' what's wrong? Why does your face look like that?"

* * *

**Authors note:**

It took me entirely too long to get back to this. World events need to stop getting in the way of my fanfiction. ~.~

Thanks to everyone still reading this! I'm so sorry to keep you waiting this long!

Poland: Yeah, that's totally not nice.


	14. Coming to Terms

Ludwig sighed, turning off the tap. His face was thoroughly damp now, water soaking into the hair that framed it and dripping into the sink. Using a paper towel he dried himself as best as possible and smoothed his hair back again into it's normal place.

He glared at the door. Sooner or later he was going to have to go back out there. For a moment he was grateful that the two nations outside hadn't attempted to come in - he didn't need another problem to sort out. Explaining to everyone why two men dressed as women were in the men's room would be an unmitigated pain in the ass.

"Hey, Ludwig? Come out ve~." Feliciano coaxed in his 'girly voice' causing the German man to take a deep breath.

_For crying out loud can we not just have a normal day? It's not as if this bodyguard thing is difficult enough to begin with! I should have never agreed to this! _

"Like, are you planning on coming out anytime soon?"

Ludwig stared to his left, frozen with a mild form of horror as Feliks sat there tapping his white boots, a school girlish pout on his face.

"Like, you're totally taking forever. Gawd. Its totes annoying. Now you're supposed to be my body-guard but you, like, can't guard me if you're in here all day. And what the hell? Your staring is totally creeping me out, like, to the max."

A stall behind Ludwig opened up and a young twenty-something man walked out, making his way casually to the sink before looking over and freezing. He looked over at the urinals - just to make sure they were there. Then he looked over at Feliks. Then back at the urinals.

"Feliks, get out!" Ludwig finally yelled. Feliks blew air at him.

"Like, fine! We'll wait outside for you - even though you totally move at the speed of a snail. Whatever, just hurry up." Throwing his hands in the air the sulky Pole left.

The man at the other sink stared at Ludwig, who gave a low groan.

"Yes. This is the men's room."

The other man looked relieved and continued on with his day.

Exiting the bathroom, the (now highly agitated) German dragged the two main sources of his annoyance down the hall of the shopping center. "I think you two have caused quite enough trouble. Could you please not make such a production of yourselves! I can't do anything if you draw attention to us - it makes everything harder!"

"Like, stop dragging me! Let go!" Feliks growled, tugging uselessly.

"No. We're leaving right now seeing as you are completely incapable of acting properly."

Feliks stumbled along in shock for a moment, mouth hanging open almost comically.

_Did he just-_

Nearly tripping backwards, Ludwig let out a yelp as his charge stopped forcefully enough to jar him. A clearly defiant look on his face Feliks refused to move even as Ludwig attempted to drag him forward. "We have to go!"

"Screw that! Not until you apologize!"

"For WHAT? You're the one who owes me an apology!"

"I owe you NOTHING! Let go!"

"Ve~ Ludwig...securities coming over."

It just kept getting worse and worse, that was the only thought in Ludwig's mind as less than a minute later he was explaining to some very skeptical police that this was not a domestic dispute and that he was a bodyguard trying to protect a very unruly client. A check of their respective I.D.s and a flood of questions later they were finally able to leave. It was at this point that Ludwig skipped that hassle of dragging Feliks and opted to carry him instead.

"Put me down! AAAAARGGGG!"

Ludwig moved as fast as he could toward the entrance. "This is ridiculous!" Hoisting the other nation onto his shoulder he flinched when Feliks shrieked in his ear.

"Like! Put me down! Dude! I'm in a skirt!" The young man argued, trying to find a way to hold his skirt down enough to at least pass for 'decent', his face beginning to turn red in the process. "Seriously! I'll behave; just put me down! I don't want everyone looking at my business!"

"You should have thought about that before you put on a skirt and began causing a ruckus then shouldn't you?" Ludwig responded testily. "You'll get down when we get to the car."

"Aaah! You're like a total asshole!"

Feliciano sighed, trotting along behind the two. "Well, at least we made sure everything matched - remember?"

"Feli...never mind."

The three made it to the car without further mishap and after a few rules were laid down the two pleading men in the back convinced Ludwig to perhaps try again at another shopping area. This time he tried a pedestrian zone where they could look at different shops along a street. The two eyed every window, chattering excitedly over clothes and accessories or the occasional cute toy. They tried nearly every bakery they came across - tasting pastries as they sat bundled up in their warm winter coats.

In a small jewelry shop Ludwig waited by the counter while Feliks perused the stores wares - Feliciano having gone on to get hot drinks. Ludwig lost himself in thought.

_He really gets into shopping doesn't he? Not all that practical, then again I know little about shopping for things I don't really need. I imagine it must be hard on his friends to find him gifts if he just goes out and buys everything himself. Feliciano's happy with everything - Poland seems pickier. But he's identifying every stone in here, so he at least knows what he's talking about. Maybe if I need something for Roderick I'll ask him sometime. Not that he'd do it if I told him who it was for. _

At this a small smile crossed Ludwig's face as he watched Feliks debate between two broaches - one silver and ruby, the other gold and emerald. Eventually he went over to see what the situation was.

"Oh." Feliks murmured. "It's just that...nothing. I think I know which one I want to get now. I just wish I could get both."

"You don't have enough for that?" Ludwig asked curiously.

Feliks tugged on his skirt. "No. Spent it on new clothes. Totally didn't know I'd find awesome jewelry here too. In any case I made my decision so we can totes go if you're ready."

"Of course, we can meet Feliciano outside."

"Like, Awesome." Feliks grinned as he made his way to the counter.

"So..." Ludwig began, trying an attempt at conversation despite being generally horrible at it. "What did you decide on?"

"This!" Feliks held the broach up proudly. The small item was in the shape of a docile appearing wolf curled around a bold multi-faceted emerald that glimmered beautifully in the light and complemented the creatures clear ruby eyes. "I got it for Liet. It's totally hard to shop for him because he says he likes everything just to be polite. So its, like, totally awesome when I find something I know he'll actually love. Feels like I win at shopping or something."

With a small smile Ludwig chuckled. "I suppose you can look at it that way. Well, Feliciano should be here pretty soon. Let's head out."

"Totally!" Feliks chirped as he bounded out the door.

Pausing, Ludwig looked back toward the other brooch. With a nervous quickness he returned to the one he had seen Feliks holding and brought it to the register.

_It was rather thoughtful of him to give it up for someone else. I suppose it couldn't hurt to get it for him._

At the counter he paid for the small brooch and then tucked it safely away in his jacket. The older woman behind the counter gave him a strangely coy smile.

"That was kind of you. Knowing she had a hard time choosing between them."

Ludwig paused, and then looked away with a slight blush. _She._ He mused.

"I suppose. It just seemed like something I should do."

With a wink the older woman walked away. "I know she'll appreciate it. You two will do just fine."

Ludwig was glad the old woman couldn't see the look of shock and perhaps fear on his face.

_Don't make it sound like we're an item...please._

Outside Feliciano had drinks to pass around. Looking at the time their temporary caretaker noted the lateness of the day and reminded them that all three were due at a meeting that afternoon. Feliciano and Feliks suggested they just go straight there.

Ludwig suggested they change first. He won that argument for once.

* * *

Faster than a lightning bolt Feliciano raced across the conference room, becoming an Italian blur as he stampeded towards his second favorite friend - Kiku. The island nation remained as stoic as ever, calmly warning Feliciano not to 'glomp'; whatever that was. Feliks walked in behind Ludwig, not missing the strange look he got from several surrounding nations but he merely tossed his head and ignored them. For his part, Ludwig stood for a moment peering into the crowd of nations. He spotted Iran - he'd never learned his other name - glowering across the room at a smaller nation standing by Alfred who was talking in his normal deafening voice.

Iran broke his staring for just a moment as Ludwig walked by and returned an icy look of his own. With a huff of irritation Iran decided to go somewhere else.

Feliks watched the exchange with curiosity. He hadn't really noted any tension between Iran and Germany before - nothing in the news said anything about it.

Now Turkey on the other hand, he'd seen a bit of 'tension' with; mostly something about kids that were supposed to go home and never did. Turkey normally just shrugged every time it came up and nothing ever came of their talks.

Walking along behind Ludwig he thought he saw Toris for just a moment before the voice next to him interrupted his thoughts.

"Ludwig? Ah! You don't come over all that often! It's good to see you."

The kid gave Ludwig a hearty handshake. "I've seen you around but we never talk; it's a shame."

"Ja. I know." The German responded quietly. "We should talk more often than we do."

The kid waved his apprehension away. "Don't worry about it Ludwig. I understand. Anyway what brings you over to this side of the room today?" He asked with a small, kind smile. Ludwig looked over at Feliks who looked back at him, then at the stranger who was taking note of his existence.

"And who is this one? There are so many new kids running around today I can't keep track of them all."

Feliks pouted. "New? I'm like, totally old already."

The other nation chuckled. "Old. Tell me about it. I'm older than dirt. Almost literally."

_Older than dirt?_ The Polish man noted, eyeing the kid in front of him. _He barely looks any older than any of us - even younger. I mean, he's older than that Sea-land kid but not by all that much. _

The young man in front of him only smiled warmly, as if he already knew Feliks. He wore a nice, but plain suit slacks and a worn grey sweater - as if not really wanting to stand out.

"Anyway, what's you're name? Like I said, I have a hard time keeping track of everyone. I get the feeling we've met before though."

"Oh." Feliks stated kind of awkwardly as he pulled out of his thoughts. "My name is Feliks Lukiewitz. Otherwise known as the Republic of Poland."

The other mans eyes seemed to grow larger by the second.

"Little Poland? Really?"

_Little?_ Feliks fumed. _He's one to talk._

"Oh my goodness. This is amazing! I did not recognize you! Oh I should have known it was you - how have you been?"

Feliks gave a nervous little smile. "Good I guess. But how do you know me?"

The kid laughed at him. "I guess I may be older than dirt but I don't look it! I've been here and there you know. Around for ages. But you know my kids at least." There was a momentary pause; a strange look on the younger mans face. "At least, you did. In fact your kids are part of the reason so many of mine are still around. That I owe you for."

A weird sense of familiarity coming over him, Feliks asked. "And you are?"

With a small grin the man extended a hand. "I'm known as the State of Israel. Pleased to meet you again."

Feliks shook the mans hand in a sort of trance, almost not quite believing his ears.

"Wait a minute...You're Israel?"

The other nation nodded. "Sure thing, although most people just call me 'Old Man Israel or just Old Man. I know it sounds strange with the way I look but I'd rather that then some of the other things I've been called lately."

At this the young man cast a glance over where some of his neighbors were gathered. "Yeah, those guys still don't like me very much. I suspect they never will. In any case that's who I am. Even if you don't recognize me I really should have recognized you."

"Why?" Feliks asked, still feeling a bit out of sorts. The self-proclaimed 'old man' waved him over to a private area outside the conference room. Following, the two took a seat out in the lobby near a window that overlooked a panorama of tall buildings and a darkening skyline as evening approached. After parking himself in a plush golden hued chair the strange nation sighed, gazing out over the horizon where white clouds were tinged amber.

"You know." He started. "I'm always kind of perplexed by this city. It seems so old, and yet so new. It's like the past and the present collided. Maybe I just have a weird view on things though, so how do you see it?"

It took a moment of thought before Feliks answered, emerald eyes half-hidden under his hair. "It feels...strange to me. I mean, technically speaking it's a pretty okay place. But I totally don't feel welcome here most days. It's not anything that people say or do that makes it feel sort of weird. It's just, I guess the fact that I'm there at all that weirds me out. Like trespassing on land I shouldn't be on."

"History does that to us." The other nation nodded. "We have a bad history with someone and our first reaction is to run the next time we see them."

Feliks looked up. "You didn't run from Germany."

"I suppose you're right. I didn't."

"Why?"

"Nothing to run from." At this the Israeli stretched, turning his gaze to the sunset. "I've got nothing to worry about from the kid. Then again." He paused, only his eyes moving to regard Feliks. "He's not _my_ neighbor. I can completely sympathize with having folks next to you that you've gotten into scrapes with in the past. Most of the kids that live in my house now came from Ludwig's. Just couldn't stand to be there anymore I guess, so they came to me. Let me tell you, those were interesting times."

It took a while for the conversation to resume again, each sitting for a few minutes in the long quiet between questions. It was Feliks who started dialogue up again.

"So. You're not afraid at all?"

"I'd be lying if I said Ludwig didn't scare the daylights out of me sometimes."

Feliks frowned with confusion. "But I got the impression you two were on good terms. So he still weirds you out too?"  
"Well..." The young man shrugged. "If someone tried to kill you it takes quite a long time to get over it, right? I mean a fight you can recover from but attempted murder? That's a bit extreme. And I know he feels bad about it and wants to make amends in his own awkward way but don't get me wrong; there are still times I just want to run screaming out of the room - _especially_ when I see him in a rotten mood."

"So how do you get over that?" Feliks asked. At this his companion smiled.

"You get to know him. You find out he's not all stone and ice like you thought he was. Despite looking like he's always business there's some play in there too. Most of his tough appearance comes from him being to unskilled or shy in the little things like small talk or niceties. He's polite but in his own way. Same thing with affection; I've seen him with his friends and you can tell he cares."

"All I ever see is him getting on Italy's case for doing something wrong or forgetting how to tie his shoes."

"That's how he shows he cares." The 'Old man' winked. "Now us on the other hand; it's a little different for us. He can't bring himself to outright say that he's worried - he's afraid it'll sound insincere and he hates that above everything else. Did it ever occur to you that he's afraid of the reaction he'll get if he tries to do something good?"  
Feliks shook his head. "How can you get a bad reaction from doing good?"

"Let me tell you a story;" The Israeli began. "When I was first getting set up as a nation I had a whole bunch of my kids come back - just like I told you earlier - and things were really kind of wacky. We had no houses or food or anything else for them. My boss worked out a deal with Ludwig's that they would send us some money in the form of reparations for what happened back during the war. That way it wasn't a handout so Ludwig's kids wouldn't fight footing the bill, they could help us in some way, and we could get our new kids fed, housed, and clothed."

He shook his head in remembrance, a smirk on his face. "These people freaked out. They couldn't believe that the State of Israel was taking money in exchange for all the horrible stuff their families went through. People mistook the purpose of the reparations. You see, it wasn't throwing money at us to 'pay us back' for the people who died. It was money to help provide for those who survived; who would otherwise live in poverty if nothing was done. It was aiding the living, not buying the dead. And a lot of people didn't get it."

He sighed. "I'm old. So I got it. But our kids are always young, we always have new ones and a lot of times they don't listen to their elders so they do the same stupid stuff all over again. It's like a bad dream sometimes because they just don't get it. But that incident and a few other ones have made Ludwig really cautious about doing anything, good or bad. Same goes for a lot of his kids - there's a fear of being judged or labeled. Then the ones who are proud of their country and get sick of people harassing or judging them for being proud are all too easy to push over the edge into fanaticism. They get a notion that they're being persecuted because the more they favor their country the more others disapprove. They dig in harder."

Feliks sat staring out of the large picture window. The sun had set, leaving only a glowing trace on the horizon.

"Well." The older state mused, standing. "I suppose we better get going. Meeting will be starting soon."

"Yeah...I just have one more question."

"Hm?" The other nation hummed, standing with hands in his pockets. "You needed something from me?"

The Pole shifted nervously. "It's just...you keep saying you know me. Is that from your kids that...used to live at my house?"

"A little bit, partly that." With a low sigh the youth shook his shoulders. "But mostly I watched over you guys after I stopped being a nation a long time ago. I didn't have a body so I just kind of floated around like a ghost for a long time. Centuries. But my people remembered me and kept on living so I existed in spirit. It was pitiful; I couldn't talk to anyone directly, couldn't sleep, and couldn't eat. Not that I got hungry. I guess that's beside the point. But I could feel pain." At this he regarded Feliks with a steady and stern eye.

"I felt what was happening to me; I knew from rumor and experience that it would happen to you too. But I couldn't really intervene being a ghost and all. The closest I could get was scaring you out of Warsaw, but I was glad I managed that little bit."

Feliks felt a cold shiver race through him. "Warsaw...the vision in the mirror."

"You did get it then. I'm glad. I was afraid you'd end up a ghost like me if you didn't get the heck out of there when you did. I guess even us old guys still have a few tricks right?"

Turning away the old nation retreated to the conference room. After a moment of silence Feliks shook his head and followed.

That night he was pried away from Ludwig by Toris who insisted that they go back east as soon as possible. Feliks had to agree, he needed to get back and help fight this mysterious group trying to take over.

As they walked down the now familiar steps Feliks could only see the past in his mind.

* * *

_Damn it all, he'd known that Russia was a cold bastard but even this was beyond his reckoning. _

_ The Soviets were supposed to support them. Unfortunately it was all too convenient for their 'Great Leader' if the uprising died. It would make them all so much easier to subdue later wouldn't it? Feliks felt a surge of white-hot anger. _

_ "I guess all of that talk about fighting back was a trap wasn't it? Lure us in, make us think you'll help then the second we peek our heads out have the Nazi's blow them off. If it takes to the end of my life I'll make sure the world knows just what a conniving bastard that Russia is!"_

_ Angry, cold, hungry and sore Feliks sighed, leaning against a sink. He stared into the non-working structure. The water had been cut off already, only air was left in the pipes - not that you'd want to drink from it anyway. The dead and dying polluted the water and only the hand made wells were safe. It wasn't supposed to go on this long. _

_ "I should have known...I heard some of those reports. Russia had no intention of helping us at all. Knowing him the bastard will just kill everyone when he gets in here - he's no better than Germany! And England. Pfeh. Now I understood what that jerk Austria meant when he said he'd tell everyone how useless the guy was until the end of time. He runs and hides like a coward. If the Soviets say jump he'd say 'how high?'."_

_ He wobbled just a moment. The pain, above everything else was getting to him. He could feel his people in the countryside dying by the thousands. He could feel the people in the cities dying. Feliks knew there were death camps - he could feel them rotting into his very bones. It made him sick to think of his beautiful country reduced to a graveyard. But he had to stay and fight. Apparently no one else was willing to fight for Poland. _

_ There was stillness in the air that night, unusually quiet for just a little while. _

"Get out while you can. You must abandon Warsaw."

_ Feliks looked up, gazing at his own reflection in the mirror - a haggard familiar site. But the reflection beside it was anything but. _

_ A man will deep and hollow eyes that stared back with the flame of defiance. A gaunt vision clad in pale blue-grey stripes who gazed unflinchingly back at him._

"You must leave the city. Hide in the deep forests until the western nations arrive; you already know not to trust the red tide from the east."

_ Feliks spun, turning to face the man behind him. But the empty room only echoed back at him. His breathing hitched, becoming shallower with fear as the voice began to resound ever louder in his mind._

"Leave Warsaw. The people are already gone, and with the people gone the city will burn."

_ Once again facing the mirror Feliks found only his reflection. A last, sorrowful refrain thread its way into his consciousness. _

"Both East and West are enemies now. If they find you; they will kill you. Do not let them find you young one."

_ Late that night Feliks and his small but loyal squad disappeared from Warsaw, one of the last to leave the city. They made the hazardous journey to the deep forests, hiding as well as could be expected. Feliks knew how to avoid the camps that were scattered throughout the landscape or the main supply routes of the Reich. He knew how to avoid the feeling of poisoned earth. It was so difficult now with nearly every patch of land covered in blood. _

_ Sometime later when they were a great distance away he felt a strangeness come over him - an icy feeling of dread. _

_ The pain was sudden, as if all at once his very heart had been ripped out and cast into a fire. It took several of his soldiers to smother the sounds of his cries - fearful that they might be heard. If they were found they would be executed on sight and it was very much a matter of life and death that no one knew their location. _

_ As the cries subsided Feliks stiffened, his body unwilling to move. He knew he was breathing too fast and his blood roared in his ears, a strange whining reached him as the edges of his vision began to blur and darken. _

_ A stranger was above him again, reaching out to hold his shoulder. Nothing more than a phantom. With kind eyes the man looked at him, almost appearing nothing more than skin and bone. _

"Hold on for just a little longer...your people will carry you from now on."

_ Feliks gave a whining gasp before he blacked out completely._

* * *

Above the steel grey sky loomed, low hovering clouds covering the blue sky above and blocking it out. The cold air cut through them like a knife, amplified by the snow that fell from the remote heavens.

Gilbert watched his breath form in long streams with each exhalation. The team of seven crept along single file - reluctant to make a disturbance in the deep woodland. They crossed over frozen lakes and streams as quietly as any creature of the forest; not daring to betray their movements. They were alone in the deep woods, now moving to the east. Gilbert had not a clue where they were headed and he was beginning to doubt that their leader knew either. The man had remained silent other than the persistent cough that grew louder by the moment. He stumbled now and then, pretending it didn't happen when asked. There was no doubt that their team medic was nervous - the young man hovered next to the General with a worried energy about him.

A resounding crack could be heard in the path ahead, causing the formation to halt. When several echoing pops began to reach their ears Adler ordered the team forward, racing through the snow towards the sound. Gilbert jumped to the head of the pack to keep an eye on his injured boss. When they were close enough the small group halted and began creeping forward as quickly as possible. They needed to identify this group before charging in.

All in one moment they engaged, seeing the colors of Heavens Shield flying tattered in the wind.

Adler raced to the front of the formation, not at all showing his fatigue. He used the sound of gunfire as a beacon - guiding him in towards his brethren. Coming up to a ridge he came over it with his men in hot pursuit. An old bridge over a deep ravine was quickly crossed as they entered the combat zone. Bearing to their right they made their way into deep woods, skirting through the forest trails until they came upon the first holdouts of their forces. Adler was warmly received but did not stay long, instead racing on towards the direction of the front. Yelling could be heard through the trees and the General readied his weapon, lifting it to his shoulder and lowering to a walking crouch as he advanced toward the front. Gjord hung back on his orders but Volker was right at his side. Gilbert lifted his own commandeered weapon. There was no way he was letting his boss get killed out here.

"Who is it?" Adler whispered after tapping a young soldier on the shoulder. After a moment of stunned silence the youth responded. "Sword sir. They're just up ahead."

"Where's your commander?"

"Just ahead, over on the right where the hill starts to drop off into the field ahead. Swords holding position in that field trying to get over here."

"Got it. Hold position." Adler ordered, moving on. This time he instructed Volker to stay with the lad and run relay if any changes were made. Then he quickly made his way to the unit commander. The older man regarded him with wide eyes and grasped Adler's hand enthusiastically when he approached.

"General...so you did survive! We were not sure if it was a rumor or the truth."

Adler nodded. "Word was I was dead?"

The commander scoffed. "Word from Sword was. They relayed the account of the attack on your house and the number of dead. They recounted a high tally."

"It's probably true." Adler grimaced. "They killed many of our finest. However; we will not allow them to do with this nation what they please. I doubt the Poles will allow it either. Do you know where the governmental forces are?"

Waving them toward a small enclosed patch of trees the commander continued his report to the General. "Yes sir. We sent out a flare when we discovered Sword here."

"A flare?"

"Yes. In absence of orders from HQ we've been taking to routing out Sword and setting off flares when we find them. Normally they make a run for it - it keeps them moving and wears them down so that when they engage the Polish Army they don't stand a chance."

"Good." Adler commented sharply. "We want to tip the scales in the Armies favor - strange as that may sound."

"Yes." The commander sighed. "Except that this time they didn't run. They fought. We saw them handling some heavy looking equipment before the battle started. It seems they got a hold of something special. I don't know what it is though."

"I'd like to find out." Adler mused, looking back toward the battlefield. "What is the troop ratio?"

"We actually outnumber them for once, our forces are 72, and theirs are 53."

Adler stared. "You realize how small of numbers we're talking about here?"

"I know they have more than 53 in their militia. They must have wanted to move quickly and quietly. I don't think they counted on having to fight. But the odds aren't in our favor for long - the Military's coming. We've been in the practice of leaving severely wounded because the state cares for them. The healthy move out. Sword leaves no one if they can help it and it slows them down.

"That helps us."

"Except that they retain more troops, even if decent amounts are wounded."

"I wonder why..."

Gilbert looked over the papers strewn over the roughshod station. "You said the odds aren't in our favor for long. Are you suggesting they have re-enforcements?"

The commander looked up, blue eyes scowling. "Who is this, sir?"

"A V.I.P. He's to be protected at all times."

The commander nodded. "Of course sir. Yes. I mean that re-enforcements will be arriving soon. If they get here before the Army there will be far more dead to collect. Sword will kill us to the last man if they get the chance."

"Sir!" A man charged toward the station; his eyes wide and breath short as he slowed in front of his superior officers. His face looked unusually young for a soldier with rosy cheeks and bright glacial colored eyes. "Sir! We discovered the item! It's some sort of heavy artillery - the kind used to down planes sir!"

"Anti-aircraft." Adler hissed. "They want to take out the air force with that I suppose."

"Or civilians caught in their crosshairs." The Commander growled.

The two exchanged a look before Adler spoke again.

"We have to destroy it. There is no question. So what do we do?"

Pointing to a rough drawn map on a torn strip of cloth the commander outlined their plan. They needed to get to the structure where the anti-aircraft equipment was being held and destroy it. Fortunately the group had a few rocket-launchers that should do the trick - providing they could get close enough.

Runners whispered orders through the line, shifting the attack heavily towards the shed. It was tense as the fighting went on for first minutes, then nearly a half hour. Then, all at once there was a deafening explosion and a column of smoke as the whole shed lit up - taking the machine with them.

Shield factions good mood did not last long.

The counterattack was swift and brutal as Swords objective turned from protection of the anti-aircraft equipment to annihilation of their sworn enemy.

Gilbert found himself fighting for his life. Someone fired off smoke, causing a thick haze to envelope him. Crouching in the woodlands he began a cautious move forward. Another soldier beside him did the same, both threading through the underbrush towards the enemy line. As the smoke started to thin Gilbert lowered to the ground, hiding himself as best as possible. He could see the enemy clearly now, hiding behind embankments and fallen logs on a flat area of ground near the forest. Gilbert raised his weapon, taking a few shots at the area.

He moved forward just a bit for a clearer angle when he felt a blinding pain rip through his left side and through to his right. Falling to the ground his yelped then bit his tongue. From his place in the earth he could see the faintest of movement from his left.

A sniper trained its sights on others.

A human's eye wouldn't have been able to see, let alone aim considering the cover provided. But Gilbert wasn't human and the loss of their protective sniper cost Sword faction dearly. They immediately went on the offensive.

Mustering his strength, Gilbert stood and stumbled through the undergrowth towards where they were beginning to push through. There was a set of trees that he could get behind. Maybe then -

This time he barely felt the shot, falling to the ground just beside clearing. For its part his body shut down, refusing to move once more and it was all Gilbert could do to retain consciousness, the sound of battle fading away.

Adler cursed moving toward the front. He could hear his men screaming for a medic. But they only had two - his original and the one from the group they had now merged with. They were too valuable to risk on this field of battle.

Crouched up behind a tree stump a soldier called out, others calling back to him. The enemy held a bit of high ground behind the pinned troop and were shooting down into a mostly frozen creek bottom. In exchange Shield was returning fire but unable to get up to the lone trapped soldier who had gotten caught in the middle of a retreat. His leg bled red from the injuries he'd suffered. Unable to save himself he persisted in calling to his fellow soldiers who could only stare on in shock.

Adler crept up to the rise, nearly four feet high and covered with mud from the churning of boots in the snow. Deftly crouched close to the ground Adler made a sideways slide across a fallen trunk in one smooth motion and readied his weapon. He didn't want it to become clogged with mud for what he was about to do. Then, just as the fighting lulled he leapt up the incline, boots slipping in the mud. Grabbing the soldier he ushered him toward the slope - the leap the young warrior couldn't bring himself to make alone. As bullets rained around them Adler went into a slide, ducking below the level ground and hiding in the streambed once more.

The battle was futile and it was merely a few minutes later that a retreat was called. Scanning the battlefield, Adler had to be physically carried from the field by his attending forces - leaving the dead behind.

Gilbert stared into open space. It was a strange feeling to be dead and yet alive. His blood had started flowing already, circulating his body. He could see again and what he saw disturbed him.

Swords re-enforcements had arrived and instantly began scouring the field for their own. When they encountered a member of Shield that was still alive they offered them a simple choice - assimilate into their army or get a bullet to the head.

Gilbert could only wait in vain, the sound of a random single shot now and then jarring his senses. A figure appeared above him, blocking out the sun. Lying on his back, Gilbert recognized the man at once. His swagger and cocky grin were too much to forget.

"I know this one..." Klaus commented, crouching to brush a strand of hair out of Gilberts face. "He was at the safe-house with Adler."

Another form appeared beside the blonde man, regarding the fallen nation with even colder eyes than his companion. His face was rougher, more solidly built and he seemed old enough to be Klaus' father. His military cropped hair was a deep tawny shade that glimmered in the fading light.

"Well that's no good for us is it? It's a damn shame he's dead then, we could have gotten information on that rats whereabouts."

"You think he would tell, Karl?" Klaus asked. "Hm. He has fine features. It really is a shame. We could use better stock than what we've got now. We're ending up with the dregs of society - that's no good for a new world order."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there." Karl noted wryly, turning away. "Although...I suppose we could change our policy a bit."

"Sir?"

"Capture anyone who...'fits'. We'll use them soon enough."

"I wish you'd told me sooner. We just shot quiet a few."

Karl grimaced. "Is that so? Damn. Well, remember it for next time. We'll need good blood for good soldiers in the future."

"Right sir." Klaus smirked, regarding the prone Prussian one last time before moving away.

"Troops! New orders! Listen up you lot..."

* * *

It was cold nightfall before Gilbert could move again. In the pale, wane moonlight the world of snow and ice glittered. Slowly, the injured man staggered his way across the battlefield. He could only see the outlines of the bodies of the dead; the sickly colors having faded away with the sunlight. He could just smell the dead however; that stench of blood, urine, and filth that hung in the air after men have killed each other. The cold deadened it a bit, but Gilbert had caught the scent often enough to know what it was.

Slowly he trudged on through the dark forest, stumbling as he went.

He headed as if guided by a bright light in his chest - a force drawing him in as if magnetized.

He made it as far as the edge of Shields new camp, close enough to see Adler's look of shock and amazement before he collapsed.

* * *

**Authors Note: **

Oww...

_Poland: Dude, are you okay?  
_Oweeee...

_Prussia: Ignore her; she just spent a few hours running around in freezing rain. She'll get over it. _

Guuurggle..

_Prussia: Oops. Maybe not. _

Airsoft FTW ^.^

This chapter was actually kind of hard, trying to pack a lot of stuff in and get my history right in preparation of next chapter. Basically stuff is going to really hit the fan after this point. ( it hasn't already? XD)

So let me know if there's something I got wrong...or heck, something I got right.

Thanks for reading!


	15. Forests of the East

"So you went shopping?"

Feliks nodded, balancing a stick of pocky between his upper lip and nose. He could smell the strawberry and it was making him really hungry - but he was bored. So instead of eating his tasty treat he continued to balance it for a little while longer.

At the wheel of the rental car Toris gave a disgruntled sigh. "You went shopping with Germany? Feliciano I can understand but _him_? I blame the lack of sleep for that."

"Like, don't worry. I totes got it under control." The pocky slipped. Grabbing it before it could fall completely Feliks decided it was time to finish his snack. Once it was gone he pulled another one from the box and started all over again. "You know. You make it sound like the end of the world."

"It isn't?" Was the immediate response.

Feliks chuckled and glanced over at his longtime friend; a frown finding it's way onto his face when he realized that Toris wasn't laughing with him. "You know;" The blond started slowly, sitting up in the passengers seat. "I know what I'm doing right? I got a plan for all this. It just means that I have to hang around Germany for a while."

"How long?"

"Uh...until I get this stupid army out of my country?"

"No."

"You can't 'no' me Liet. I'm totes doing it."

The Lithuanian scowled. "Why? Is he making you?"

"No." Feliks clarified. "I asked him to...sort of..."

"What?" Toris asked tersely. The answer from Feliks came as a whisper - barely audible. It would have gone unnoticed by anyone else. Toris was not; however, anyone else.

"WHAT? BODYGUA- ARE YOU NUTS?"

Feliks plugged his ears. "Dude! Like, volume!"

"No!" Toris interrupted. "Why in the world would you ask him of all people to be your bodygaurd? Is this some kind of joke? Are you trying to send me to an early death? You have got to be out of your mind!"

"Toris! Calm down." The Pole sighed, holding a distinctively stern face until his friend calmed down enough to talk to. Once Toris had taken a few calming breaths and relaxed his steel grip on the wheel Feliks explained himself. Within a half-hour of driving or so the other nation finally nodded and relented.

"Fine." Toris spoke with teeth clenched. "So you're using this as an opportunity to keep an eye on Germany. Well, you're back in your home now - no more of this 'bodyguard' nonsense."

"Like, it's not that easy. If I go missing he'll totes track me down. That's why I asked him."

"Track you down? He's only guarding you in Germany."

Feliks winced. "Not really..."

There was a lurching as the car turned, changing direction. Feliks peeked out of the window to watch a snow-strewn landscape fly by.

"Hey! I'm supposed to be meeting the guy in Warsaw."

His driver seemed unimpressed and continued onward. "He'll manage without you. I think it's time you get a second opinion on this plan of yours Feliks. I know that you just want to be informed but this could be putting you in a lot of danger." Toris shook his head, green eyes worried. "You don't know how slick of a talker Germany is. It's not good to be around him...he'll change you. You won't know who you are anymore."

"It's not like that Liet." Feliks insisted, trying to find a way to convey his feelings to his oldest friend. "He's not going to change me."

Toris grew unusually quiet. After a moment he whispered; "I said that too, Feliks."

The tension in the car grew thick as Feliks gazed out of the window, watching the scenery fly by.

_Man...I guess Toris is still torn up over that. I told him it would be okay but I guess it's still hanging over him._

Feliks couldn't blame his best friend for what happened, but he realized that wouldn't stop Toris from blaming himself.

"I'm just telling you to watch it okay?" Toris spoke, interrupting Feliks' internal dialogue. "I mean...I don't know. Back then...I got so swept up in things. I let him talk me into things I knew weren't right. Then everything happened to you and I was so useless because I'd been taken in by lies."

"Liet." Feliks sighed, emerald eyes sincere. "Please believe me. I won't change on you. Totes promise."

Toris snorted. "You need a second opinion."

With an agitated sigh Feliks leaned back in his seat. "Fine. Like, who do you have in mind then?"

"Orzeł Biały."

Feliks stiffened a moment, then sighed in resignation. He didn't say anything further.

Approaching their destination Feliks noted a distinct absence of the normal activity. Of course, following the fighting the entire district had been evacuated - the multitude of lakes silent in the winter. For the most part they were frozen anyway; this being only February and still far too early for the spring thaw. Nevertheless, it was strange to see them so deserted.

The military checked, then re-checked, then re-re-checked their verification until Feliks himself was about ready to scream. Finally they got through the roadblock and carried on into the heavily wooded area, driving into the heart of the lake district.

On the ride up Feliks could feel the change that had occurred. He still felt a little strange from the whole scenario - what with parts of him having lost all feeling. There was a glimmer of hope that at any minute sensation would return. Until then all he could do was wait. But beyond that was another feeling. It was an uncomfortable, irritating feeling similar to having a piece of gravel wedged in ones side and being unable to remove it.

Feliks hadn't the slightest idea of what was causing _that_. Another mystery to solve.

The two rode in silence for a long while until their path led them deep into the northern forests surrounded by frosted lakes and there, in a long isolated spot Toris pulled the car to a halt.

"I know you can feel that. _I _can feel it."

Emerald eyes scrunched closed, Feliks stifled a grumble and failed miserably. Of course he could feel the heavy presence that filled the afternoon air - passing over him like a hot cloud. The mere proximity of the source caused a warm tingle of static to wash over his skin. Climbing from the car, Feliks shrugged into his coat and walked away from the road and up the worn but narrow path into the woods. He'd only gone a few steps when he noted that the Lithuanian was still standing by the car - content to wait until his return.

Slowly, Feliks continued on alone.

The sun was beginning the downward slope towards the horizon - casting a glimmering golden light through the high canopy. The trees glistened and shimmered white in the rays that slipped into the forest. Beneath the trees tall golden grasses covered in snow - a remnant of summer - shone. With the light of the slanted sun the area was bathed in silver and gold.

Arriving at a simple, un-adorned marker Feliks waited. The presence was almost stifling with his most ancient companion so close.

Humans, being the mortal creatures they are function differently. Everything about a human is inside of them. But with nations, their essence is nearly entirely external. Their body is their soil, their blood is their people, but their soul seems to have a mind of it's own.

Like a pale apparition of shimmering dust, the form of a great white creature appeared. Standing nearly twice the height of Feliks himself, the white eagle regarded him from it's perch on the marker. The golden crown cast golden reflections around the small hollow that shimmered along the branches that concealed the two from potential watchers. With alert golden eyes, the White Eagle regarded his nation.

Feliks looked up, emerald eyes regarding the very symbol of his existence - the closest thing a nation has to a soul. His eyes trailed over the pristine form and only broke away at the faintest of scars - two double rings around the mystical creatures neck.

The two remained silent a long while. It was the perched eagle who spoke first.

_There are strangers among us here in the north. They are in the forests and lakes. _

"I know. It seems that Polish territory is just the thing everyone wants."

_A sad truth. We have seen it before many times. However; this one is familiar. He is the one who lived here before for a time. I did not think he still survived. _

Feliks smirked. "Yeah. That guys pretty tough. He's still around."

_Curious. I sense another form...what is the west one doing here?_

Stifling a cringe the nation nodded as the subject came up.

"Well..." A pause ensued as Feliks began to twist his hair nervously. "I guess I sort of kind of totally told Germany he could maybe possibly be my bodyguard."

The eagle tilted it's head in an odd, but distinctly avian fashion.

_With so many uncertainties you have told me little._

Under the golden eyed gaze Feliks relented.

"Alright. I asked Germany to be my bodyguard. I want to watch him a bit to see if he acts suspicious."

_You do not trust the west one._

"No...I guess not entirely. I mean, it is his brother and all."

_Understandable. Is that why you are here?_

"Leit made me come."

The great eagle gave a chirp-laugh.

_**He**__ does not trust the west-one. _

"Not one little bit. But look, I have to ask since I'm here." Feliks began, still a bit nervous. "What do you think about all this? I mean, am I crazy to think that maybe keeping an eye on Germany is a good idea? Deception isn't my thing but I totally don't want to get another unpleasant surprise from the guy."

_I do not want war or genocide either._ The eagle stated bluntly. _I sense nothing ill in the outsiders intent. However; I do not like the feel of him in these lands. _

A frown crossed the nations mind; wondering if the slightly burning sensation he felt in his chest was being caused by his neighbor. It had moved up to his collarbone which was about where they were now.

_He comes._

"Yeah. Looks like it. But you haven't given me a second opinion yet. Am I nuts to let Germany be my bodyguard until I get this all figured out?

_No._ The eagle commented simply. With a slow spread of feathers the great bird opened its wings in preparation of it's departure. _Reckless, but not insane. It is best to keep informed in such dire situations as this. I urge caution in your endeavors nonetheless - for you do not know what plans he has made. As for my part, the return of the dark one brings me a small measure of amusement. It has been a long time since I have locked talons with that one._

"You mean Prussia."

_I suppose him as well. _

With a mighty stroke of it's wings the Polish Eagle lifted from it's perch to hover above the small clearing. Small birds took flight from the dense underbrush – their frantic beating wings ungainly when compared to the creature that rose majestically in their midst. It was if time held no sway over the white eagle that flapped strong but hauntingly slow as it took to the sky, disappearing over the trees and leaving only swirling down and frost behind - the feathers melting into powdery snow as soon they touched the earth and leaving not a trace behind.

Feliks sighed. "And that's why I don't like talking to you. Never give me a straight answer."

With an affectionate smile the young man retraced his steps back down to the car. As he emerged from the quiet of the forest he saw a tall acquaintance with slicked blond hair and unimpressed glacial eyes watching him. Ludwig only tilted his head to the side as he stood leaning against his own rental car with arms crossed. To his right Toris paced bitterly, eyes lighting up when Feliks appeared.

"Alright. I got the word from my white bird. It seems that he totally agrees with me. Also, kind of confusing as hell. Still thinks I know what I'm doing though."

"And what are you doing?" Ludwig cut in, a trace of grumpiness in his voice. "I arrived expecting an escort at the airport so that I could continue my appointed task in protecting you and here you've disappeared into the woods! Luckily I was able to track you down."

Feliks shrugged as he approached. "Yeah, you've always been good at that."

The Polish nation missed the slight twitch in Ludwig's face, having turned his attention to Toris by that time. "So. Like, play nice?"

"You're riding with me."

"Run it past the muscle first."

Toris hissed. "Feliks! This is not a game!"

"I know that!" Feliks growled back, keeping his voice low. "I know it's not a game. I totally told you already that I have a reason for doing this. Now will you help me or not?"

After a long pause Toris sighed and gave a curt nod. "Alright then, let's divvy up rides shall-"

It felt like a red hot spike in his collar. With a yelp Feliks leapt back, staring to the east. "Holy - that...that was him!" Glancing over at Ludwig he saw the mans eyes already trained in the same direction. Feliks could only guess that the German had felt a connection as well.

"Prussia."

* * *

Slowly, the world came back into view.

The colors were all drab and grey, the colors of winter and war. Sitting up, the doctor pulled the sparse blankets back over his patient but Gilbert pushed them aside. Gjord was the first friendly face he recognized.

"Y' should rest. It's kind 'f hard right now." The man noted, his dark nut-colored eyes glancing toward where Adler paced back and forth.

"What's wrong?" Gilbert asked, noting the tenseness and restlessness in the mans face.

Gjord pushed the Prussian gently back into the hasty bed. "The last battle...was kind'a bad for 'im. A few people didn't come back. We lost Volker."

Gilbert stared a moment, the thought of the young man coming to his mind. "How did he die?"

"We don't know. No'one saw 'im. We had to' retreat so fast."

A flicker of hope rose in Gilberts chest and he dampened it, not allowing himself to dream that the kid was still alive. "He was cute."

The swedish man shifted nervously. "Uh. Gilb'rt. I didn't know -"

"Gjord. The guys running Sword." The nation clarified, red eyes sparkling. "They have a new policy Adler needs to know about. Those guys are taking people with features they like hostage - he might be held prisoner with Sword!"

At this a flicker of hope crossed Gjords face. "G'd. I'll tell 'im when it's time."

The Prussian frowned. "Why not now?"

The other man sighed and with a sad look stood up. "We lost Hedda as well."

"Maybe-"

"No Gilbert." Gjord cut him off. "She w's shot in th' head durin' the battle tryin' to cover Adler. She's dead."

Taking a moment to soak in the words of the blond woman's death Gilbert stared over at the pacing General.

He seemed a mess, his black hair more tousled than ever before. The man limped in an elliptical circle, occasionally touching his hand to his side. The wound there had never had a chance to heal properly. Adler coughed now and then, even as a medic pushed a cup of hot liquid into his hands and refused to leave until he'd finished it.

Then the general went back to his listless pacing.

"It's th' last thin' he needs' right now." Gjord mumbled, moving away. Gilbert grabbed the edge of his coat.

"What is it? I know it's bad from the look of it."

There was a pause before Gjord answered. "Pneumonia. An advanced stage. Runnin' out in th' woods will make it worse."

Gilbert let his hand flop at his side.

Later on they started to move. Gilbert took his position next to Adler, keeping a close eye on him and that suspicious sounding cough. Once or twice he thought he'd seen blood but the General always cleared his hands before Gilbert could see. Eventually he'd started asking every random and stupid question he knew the take both their minds off of the shitty situation they were in - something Gilbert had learned from Antonio.

"So. What will you do when this whole mess is sorted out?" Gilbert asked, as he walked with his hands behind his head, kicking at snow. Adler shrugged as best he could with his rifle. "Depends on how the chips fall. If we lose I spend my time in jail."

"If we win? You gonna be my new boss?" The nation asked, not letting a trace of hopefulness enter his voice. He really didn't want to sway him one way or the other - these sort of decisions he always felt should be up to the person themselves. But he couldn't help himself! Gilbert was aching to know who his next boss would be.

Though, technically speaking Adler was already the man in charge - even if he wasn't aware of that yet. This was what was driving Gilbert batty. He KNEW that Adler was running him, but he couldn't TELL Adler that was the case.

Again, these things have to sort themselves out the 'human' way - without undue influence from the personified nation if possible.

Adler was far from answering though as they crept further into the west. From the weird tingle in Gilbert's left shoulder they should be really close to the border.

It made him jumpy.

The radio crackled over with sound - yelling backdropped by gunfire.

It was a young officer miles away who was yelling, frantically calling for backup.

"Emergency! Help! This is unit 618! We're under attack by an unidentified force! We've overshot the mark and are retreating westward now - please join with our unit as soon as possible! We need support!"

Dropping their fight, the unit began a panicked race back through the forest and away from the nighmare that was approaching them. Thirty or so men raced headlong toward the setting sun towards the border they were not supposed to have crossed while a lone figure in blue and white followed behind them.

* * *

Seeing Ludwig race off into the black and white world of the deep forest Feliks stood silently, watching the retreating form grow smaller.

He looked over. Liet was beside him, as usual, so he didn't have to worry about going alone.

As he took his first tentative steps in the direction of the snowy trail he heard a gasp beside him.

"You're not going are you?"

"Like…I have to."

"NO, you _don't_!"

Turning to his oldest friend in shock he saw the horror on Toris' face, the wide emerald eyes disbelieving. "You…" The Lithuanian stammered. "You can't go in there, alone, with _him_."

Feliks simply stood, waiting.

"I….I'm not following you in there." Toris bluffed.

"I'm not, like, asking you to or anything."

Tensing, Toris shook his head. "You're not going either! Don't you remember? Think back to '39!"

"Like hell I'd forget!"  
Shocked by the sudden outburst Toris fell into a wide eyed silence, his companion looking back at him with steely resolve. "I'll never forget that, Liet. You really think I could?"

Ashamed, Toris looked away. "I'm sorry…I just…don't want you in there alone, not knowing who's in there." Gathering his nerve, Toris at last raised his eyes again. "It's not just Germany this time…Prussia's in there too. And…I just have a bad feeling…something isn't right. Something bad is going to happen!"  
Turning, the Polish man began to head for the forest. "Then that's like, all the more reason to move." With a glance over his shoulder Feliks gave Toris a faint smile. "Don't worry about it. We'll be like, totally silent. You know, like those Chinese guys."

Toris blinked. "Chinese..."  
"Yeah, like, those ninda guys!"

Toris sighed, shoulders sagging. "That's Japan…and they're ninja's. Seriously, I thought everyone knew – hey!"  
Breaking into a run, Toris followed his friend into the forest.

* * *

Not a trace.

Ludwig could find not a single trace of his brother other than the fresh tracks in the snow. It seemed there was a band of them, not just Gilbert. The tracks were fresh so he'd only missed them by just a few minutes but judging by the distance between footprints he estimated that Gilbert was in a dead sprint.

_Damn…so how far ahead is he then?_

Racing alongside the tracks, Ludwig couldn't help but feel a pinch of irritation. How was it that he had to train regularly to keep in shape when Gilbert could simply sit around eating junk food all day and stay perfectly healthy?

Skittering down a small slope the German kept up the blistering pace, racing flat out in a desperate attempt to reach his brother. Something was up – it had to be serious for Gilbert to come all this way out in the cold and the snow. They were in the middle of nowhere for God's sake!

A spike of anxiety raced through him. He definitely didn't want to explain all this to the other nations….when he caught that brother of his! He couldn't afford to get caught out here in Poland's forest. Not to mention there was still that other group lurking about.

A knot began to twist in Ludwig's stomach.

If that other group managed to find _him _out here he shuddred to think what might happen. Having his brother caught in the hands of a new Nazi order would be horrible but getting himself trapped by the same would be catastrophic. No one could afford that.

No. Ludwig could _not_ get caught out here.

Something behind him cracked and Ludwig jerked to a stop, pausing to listen.

There was nothing, excepting a few stray birds.

Straining his ears the man couldn't pick up any sounds at all –

_SNAP!_

Ludwig frowned, eyes narrowing. Someone was following him.

A quick glance around and Ludwig decided on a thicker clump of bushes up the side of the trail to his right. First he ran a little further up the trial, making sure his tracks were visible. Then he made a sharp right turn to bound up the slope and (making sure he was as silent as possible) the German slowly crept back to the original clump of foliage that he'd decided on earlier.

Crouched under the shadow of tall trees Ludwig could hear the faint calling of birds to one another as the afternoon wore on. A slight breeze rustled.

Slowly, he could feel his body becoming accustomed to the uncomfortable position. In a way, he almost felt like he was slipping back into something he had experienced before – his mind lulling into a strange sort of alert calmness.

The sound of crunching snow reached his ears and almost without thought he sank closer to the ground, waiting. From his angle he couldn't see the trail below – but he could definitely hear someone approaching.

Someone had been following him, but how long? Who were they?

Ludwigs muscles tensed as the sound grew louder. The culprit was almost below him.

He heard the heavy breath and the crunch of snow.

In a flash he broke cover.

There was a startled cry as his arm wrapped around the neck of his pursuer and pulled the struggling man into himself with a choke-hold.

His captive jerked his head up – wide and shocked emerald eyes locking on his.

They looked…familiar…

* * *

Like, dammit! Germany was friggin' fast. Totally…

Then again he knew fast, he'd seen it.

Like lightning…

Speeding up, Feliks took larger strides to cover as much distance as possible as he followed the trail in the snow.

"Like, c'mon Toris! I don't want Germany running around my woods for, like, ever!"

"I'm right behind you! Wait up!"

Pushing further, the anxious nation eventually had to slow down. It had been a while since he'd run like this and as he crept along holding his side he growled at the tracks leading deeper into the forest.

"I totally miss my pony…"

Looking behind him he couldn't see Toris. He knew he was back there, but he must have been flying to let him get out of sight. Since he was walking now though he knew the Lithuanian wouldn't have any trouble catching up to him.

Trudging along he sighed. There was no sign of Ludwig either.

A cold gust of wind bit through his city clothing. The impromptu trip - thanks to Toris - had left no time for a costume change; meaning Feliks was woefully unprepared for the rapidly falling night.

"Like…it's freezing…"

Wishing he'd dressed warmer and realizing that he had to just press on regardless Feliks crossed his arms for warmth and moved deeper into the forest. It wasn't like he was a human who could freeze out here – this was _his_ forest after all!

"Man…did I like, totally pass him or something?"

He heard something, just a fleeting noise.

"Like...wha-"

**WHUMP!**

Feliks felt a blast of air and an arm wrap around his neck, pulling him back hard enough to lift him off the ground. Grabbing on with both hands he flailed, kicking out.

_I can't breathe!_

Desperate, Feliks whipped his head back to look up at his attacker – his emerald eyes meeting icy blue.

Even if he hadn't been in a stranglehold he wouldn't have been able to take a single breath, not with _those_ eyes staring him down – cold and calculating.

He'd seen that look before and knew what it meant: how long do you _think_ you can fight?

"G-Ger-"

In a flash the arm released him and Feliks fell forward, taking in heaving gasps of air. He spun to see if Ludwig was still on the attack and was shocked to find the other nation leaning against a nearby tree, grasping his arms tightly as he struggled to breathe. There was a look in his eyes that the confused nation would describe as horror.

With a sort of frightened fascination Feliks could only continue to watch as Ludwig's deep gasps slowed to normal breathing. After a long time he closed his eyes, slumping back against the rough-barked trunk, causing a shower of thin green needles to rain down. His arms fell loosely at his side and Feliks absently realized that the other nation had just left himself completely open to attack, his normal guarded stance having dissolved away.

"G-Germany…"

At the sound of his name the nation jerked. Then he stood, pushing away from the tree and staring back at Feliks, blue eyes swimming with deep regret.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice a low murmur.

"Wha-OH!" Feliks jumped up, forgetting he had been sitting in the snow the whole time.

"I'm ….like…fine." He stated, his hand subconsciously rubbing his neck. It felt a bit sore and was probably a little red too but…

His bodyguard noticed, averting his eyes. "I didn't know…"

Feliks didn't respond immediately so the other nation continued.

"I didn't know it was you. I just…heard someone following me and…" An uneasy quiet descended on them as the two nations stood face to face. "I'm sorry."

A little stunned, Feliks could only stare. "Just...forget it for now. Anyway - what the hell? You suddenly run off and tell me to wait at the car? The hell I'm letting that happen!"

Lifting his head, Ludwig sighed. "My brother is out here…he's chasing someone. So I'm chasing him."

"And in turn I'm chasing you?"

Ludwig blinked, and then nodded. "That seems about it."

"Then who- Liet!" Feliks yelled as his old friend came running up, finally having caught up to the group.

_Thank God…_The Polish man felt a knot releasing in his stomach. _If Liet had seen that __it would have been war._

Gasping to catch his breath, Lithuania only spared Ludwig a quick, wary look.

"Liet, we, like, gotta catch up with Prussia! Apparently he's out here, like, chasing someone."

"Just wonderful." Toris groaned.

With powerful strides even in the deep snow Ludwig began to walk past them, jogging back up the slope.

"Hey! Wait up!" Feliks demanded, following at first but stopping when Ludwig did.

"No. This could get dangerous." With a look over his shoulder Ludwig shook his head. "You shouldn't get involved."

For a moment Feliks stood wide-eyed before snorting. "Like hell! Last time I checked this was; like, still my country." Ludwig flinched. "And I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you two play around in my forests all day. So we're totally gonna find your brother and ship you two home, kay?"

The look in Ludwig's eyes darkened. "My brother…when I get a hold of him…" With a sudden turn he raced back along the trail.

Feliks laughed, scratching his head. Lithuania gave him a questioning look and his friend smiled. "I, like, totally wouldn't wanna be Prussia right now. Seriously."

* * *

Gilbert couldn't believe it, Adler stole a motorcycle.

A second after he had gotten the frantic radio call and found out about the coordinates the band of men had raced off in the direction of the skirmish, hustling as fast as possible in the cold. It had been dumb luck that a few minutes into their run they had reached a roadblock.

Normal procedure would have been to sneak around them – keep a low profile. The exact opposite of what Adler did when he quickly jumped out of the forest, decked an officer and stole his bike while the rest of Shields troops stood staring dumbly at their Generals suicidal tendencies.

Then with a scream of frustration Gilbert had led the charge out to subdue the rest of the guards. Luckily the men he was with already knew about Adlers 'don't hurt the Poles' ordinance. For their part, the guards looked pretty sulky as Gilbert and a few other soldiers piled into the one truck behind the barrier and took off in the direction of their runaway leader.

Speeding down the road Adler cursed under his breath. He knew he was being stupid - he knew there wouldn't be much he could do. He just felt so useless sometimes.

_I never thought it would go this far or be this hard._

The motorcycle took dangerous turn after turn - further and further east. It was several minutes before he started to hear gunfire echoing through the old forests.

_I wish I could turn the clock back and end all of this once and for all!_

He knew he was being naive on some level; stupid on another. He wasn't superman, he wasn't invincible. He was human. But right now, with the movement of the bike and the whistle of wind in his ears he felt like he was flying.

As he heard the gunfire crescendo he stopped the motorcycle, jumping off and with his rifle racing into the woods toward the sound. If nothing else he could help them get back to where re-enforcements were waiting. He didn't have any other plans. The General threw himself toward the sound of combat. He knew it was his men out here in the cold. His body screamed in protest - shrieking at the thought of his battered form taking any more of a beating only to be ignored in the flood of adreneline that running had triggered.

Smacking full into the first enemy he saw he tumbled in the snow with the attacker, breaking quickly enough to jump to his feet. The woman rose to stand on her own legs, tall boots hidden under her deep blue dress. The snow-white apron fell heavily - as if concealing something of considerable weight. Adler leveled his gun at the stranger. "Who are you and what the hell have you done to my troops?"

"Do not question me, human! Answer _my_ questions. Who are you and what are you doing on my land?"

The two stood in silence, the rest of the forces retreating westward.

She moved.

Adler shot and then his world exploded around him.

He stared with terror-stricken eyes as he watched the barrel of his gun shatter into shards of frost covered steel. Heart pounding in fear, he leapt back – opening the distance between him and his newest opponent.

The large man before him straightened in a slow, deliberate way that betrayed hundreds of years of battle, his tan coat rustling heavily with the movement. To the woman on the ground behind him he turned next. Swiftly, he knelt beside her and grasped her hand, examining the small cut with fierce intensity as her face turned a bright shade of red.

"Brother…"

Ivan's eyes were focused on the trickle of blood as he carefully tended to the wound and as soon as it was wrapped he helped an awe-struck Natalya to her feet, her eyes shining.

Then he cast his icy gaze over at the foreigner who had done his little sister harm.

Adler could only feel a heavy weight in his gut.

_This man…_He stared at Ivan, whose frigid violet eyes cut into his very being.

_He's not…right...there's something different. I don't like it._

There were no words, just that deathly cold stare.

_Damn it! I can't afford to get into a fight with anyone in my condition._

Rallying his thoughts, Adler moved to a more neutral stance.

_The girl…I could handle her on my own. But who is this man? _

"чё этo зa бaйдa?"

_This language…sounds like hers…_

There was a pause, during which the temperature seemed to actually drop even further with the mere intensity of the newcomers gaze.

"Perhaps if I say it like this…" Russia spoke softly, yet firmly. "You understand?"

The young man across the field tensed, ready to fight if need be. He thanked his lucky stars that his troops were probably at the Polish border by now. Now if only he could make it himself…

"I asked…what is this? Why have you attacked my sister?" The towering man swung his weapon of choice up to land heavily on his shoulder with a hollow metallic thud – as if his shoulder itself was made of iron.

_T__he –the hell? Was that a steel pipe?_

Mind racing, Adler wondered if he should try diplomacy. He wasn't sure if the ominous newcomer would go for it though – probably not. But it was worth a shot and might buy some time. So after running a hand through his long black hair the man gave a formal bow, as if addressing royalty.

"My most sincere apologies." He clearly stated, looking honestly contrite. (He **had **wanted to avoid this scenario at all costs after all.)

"My name is Adler. It seems that due to a navigational error my squadron has landed in territory they were never meant to enter."

The mans face held not a trace of emotion. "This does not explain why my sister has been hurt."

_That commander of his…when he got back…_

"I must apologize for this as well." Adler continued, only now rising to his full height and gathering the courage to look the man in the eye with a wary shiver. "Your dutiful sister, in exercising her lawful right to survey her territory came across my men and as is her right she moved to expel them. Due to a critical error of judgment instead of leaving promptly they mistakenly tried to hold their ground. It was in my attempt to facilitate their retreat that your sister was injured – just as you yourself arrived."

There was a moment of silence before Ivan moved, a small smile crossing his face. "So this is all a misunderstanding, да? You did not set out to attack my little sister?"

"That is correct."

With a wry grin the large nation tugged at his scarf, pulling it free of his neck. Adler watched with wary brown eyes.

_Why his scarf?_

Handing the heirloom to Natalya he smiled at her sweetly.

"However; even if it is in mistake, to lay a hand on my dear sister – though I do not always agree with her-" he added quickly, seeing her sudden eager look. "is unforgivable."

The General swallowed. Diplomacy: FAIL

With utmost care the scarf was folded gently into the young woman's arms.

"I will take care of this." Ivan whispered softly to his sister, waving her toward his forces. Blush increasing, Belarus ran off toward the heavy military vehicle that had so wonderfully brought her brother to her.

Once again facing Adler, Russia gave an open smile - violet eyes dancing with a near red light. "I'm sorry, I've been rude. You have given me your name but I have not given you mine."

Adler straightened, attention held by the pale blond man who gave a childish tilt of the head.

"I am Russia. Здрaвствуйте Adler."

Adler's blood suddenly seemed to thicken with cold fear – like syrup left in a freezer. His heart was tightening in protest as he realized who this disarmingly smiling man in front of him was.

"H-he-hello…"

The nations smile only seemed to increase and Adler was forced to hide his embarrassment.

_This wasn't part of the plan!_ His mind railed, now running thousands of scenarios that all ended one way – him having a close encounter of the bloody kind with that steel monstrosity Russia called a weapon.

_Furthermore nations don't reveal themselves to humans they don't trust...he's not planning on - _

"Now that introductions are out of the way, we can get to business." With large, easy strides even in the deep snow Ivan came forward. "I have been asked by my sister to assist her in removing an invader on her territory."

"I will remove myself at once!" Adler responded quickly.

"No…please allow me." Russia quipped cheerily, taking a swing at his unarmed opponent.

Adler cursed, watching his attacker move in again. Attempting to dodge, the General couldn't quite get out of the way fast enough as the pipe arched toward him. Bracing himself, he tried to shield his head from the sweeping side attack with his left arm and shoulder. The strike hit him full force and threw him some ten feet away to land heavily in the snow, arm screaming in pain.

He gritted his teeth._ Broken? No…just stunned. Thank God. _

As he rose to his feet and watched the massive nation approach with a quick and confident gait even through the mighty drifts he realized he only had one real option…Panic and headlong retreat. With a fast spin Adler took off across the field, nearly throwing himself up the slight hill and over the ridge on the other side. He broke into a run through the forest, clutching the limp arm at his side.

_Come on! Damn it! Work!_ He ordered the battered limb. Through the forest he could hear a taunting voice echo like an ominous ghost in the trees, singing to him in light tones.

"Adler~ Adler~ Where have you gone?"

Through gritted teeth he cursed and pushed on, scared brown eyes looking for a way out of the forested maze. To him it was a wonder they'd even gotten this far into Belarus - surely there was some sort of border patrol that would have turned the division back. Unless it was a ploy. Adler couldn't dismiss the scenario. The forest began to spin, his lungs started to spasm and he coughed frantically, coming to a stop. He was exhausted, in pain. Adler had never been so tired. The only sound he could hear was his own breath for a long while as he tried to plan his next move.

_I'm up against a nation – a nation and Russia…oh God…I don't want to die just yet…That corporal! Couldn't he have gotten something to tell him where the hell he was? Damn it all…I can't run much more…_

"Tag!"

There was a sharp crack of bone and the feeling of his blood roaring in his ears. For a moment the world started to dim and a strange sound reached him as he fell forward into the snow, the force rolling him all the way to the bottom of the hill like a limp doll tossed by a child. Crunching snow approached with the sound of humming growing louder.

"Adler…I found you. And now…what game do we play next?"

On his feet faster than even he had suspected Adler took off yet again, limping and coughing into the frozen and foreboding forest. Ivan watched him with cold violet eyes devoid of sympathy as.

_To touch my sister is unforgivable. Even nations do not attempt something so foolish. It really is too bad you are a mere human._

Ivan's fingers traced the lines of his pipe tenderly. "Здрaвствуйте и досвидания."

* * *

**Authors Note:**

Prussia: OH CRAP NO!

Russia: I finally have an appearance! I am so happy!

I really need a schedule for this. -.- Then again it would be easier if I wouldn't save the chapter to my old computer that I disconnected and put in my closet. Now I should be able to get back on track tho'. As usual, let me know if I get my history or something wrong.

To everyone who waited – I am not worthy of your awesomeness. Thank You for reading!

Glossary

Orzeł Biały (Polish) White Eagle – the state emblem of Poland.

чё этo зa бaйдa (Russian) Chyo eto za baida – what is this nonsense? ( loose translation )

Здрaвствуйте (Russian) Zdravstvooitye – Hello ( formal greeting )

Здрaвствуйте и досвидания (Russian) Zdravstvooitye I dosvidaniya – Hello and Goodbye.


	16. Fences

It was all going wrong. It always went wrong.

Running through frozen over snow as fast as his legs could carry him, Gilbert raced between the towering trees of the deep forest. The sun had already begun to set behind him and darkness would soon cover the land. Now, alone in the primeaval forest the only things for miles were likely to be the wild animals that roamed these preserved areas. A deer startled, racing off into the forest – Gilbert was just glad he hadn't run into a herd of Wisent. But he had run into Shields troops – the injured and confused soldiers that had immediately been remanded to Gjord's care. Gilbert himself headed on alone – a single man running through the ancient woods; his deep blue uniform mimicking the growing shadows just as his hair mimicked the fallen snow.

It was like a fire in his very blood, a warmth in his chest that he hadn't felt in a long time. He could feel Adler's approach and the feeling spurred him on even with the frosty air cutting at the inside of his throat – causing him to cough violently time and again. There was something about the great towering canopy, the deep heavy silence of winter that made his chest hurt ever more greatly. With a sudden burst of effort he threw himself to the top of a ice encrusted drift, only at the top pausing to catch his breath. Gilbert's chest heaved with the effort.

_Damn...I...should have worked out more...I'm so out of shape._

Standing under a colossal conifer the Prussian looked out at the dusky landscape ahead of him. The slope ended by merging into a great open clearing between groups of trees. The flat area could just as easily be snowy grassland or frozen lake – there was little to separate the two. But there, just about a hundred yards ahead of him something glowed in the shimmering white of the snow.

A hum of electricity – a defiant aurora borealis hue of shifting colors. The great dividing line between nations stood before him. Gilbert knew darn well where he was now, the border of Belarus and Poland. Strangely enough there was nothing remarkable here other than a simple barbed wire fence winding dutifully to either horizon with it's curves faithfully trailing the rainbow shimmer in the earth.

"Damn...no guards, no roads, no towers – nothing! What the hells to stop someone from accidently running over there?" Gilbert grumbled to himself. "Unless they were told to get lost for some reason..."

There was the sound of crashing brush and crunching snow on the far end of the wide expanse. Then, out of the forest came a familiar figure in tattered and worn old leather coat in a dead sprint towards the Polish border.

"Hey!" Gilbert called out with a smirk, his voice echoing off of the shining snow. "You went a bit too far!"

"Noticed!" Adler could barely be heard calling back, his voice sounding drained and worn. He was limping from exhaustion and pain but still maintaining a blistering pace, something that struck Gilbert as completely strange until another figure raced out of the forest after his recently acquired General – dark tan coat fluttering in the wind as he sped after his intended target. Both his frosty hair and silvery weapon glinted in the light of the setting sun.

"SHIT! ADLER MOVE IT!" Gilbert screamed, racing towards the boundary himself.

_CRAP CRAP CRAP – I gotta get to him first. What the hell is RUSSIA doing here! Damn it; I'm gonna have to fight him to keep him off Adler! Am I strong enough for that? Can I do it? Shit! Here they come!"_

He was almost there, just another few seconds and he'd punch that ice bastard right in his stupid grinning face-

But there was that feeling again. That weird spike of red-hot pain. That uncomfortable sensation of fiercely burning heat – the heat of warm blood running down his gut. The black haired man in front of him tripped, falling into the snow.

Gilbert's legs were made of water – wobbling as he continued to stumble forward toward where his General had begun dragging himself inch by inch through the powdery white snow, staining it red as he did.

Ivan, for his part, now moved at a far more comfortable pace as he re-holstered his service pistol.

"Much better. I was tired of running. This way I can catch you so much easier."

From his side of the fence Gilbert snarled, revealing his hatred of the Russian in an instant even as his mind came around to the cold reality that he'd been – once again – shot at close range.

"You miserable little snake!" Gilbert snapped angrily; fighting to climb back to his feet and stagger forward. He could tell the bullet had done it's work on Adler as well – the man straining pull himself through the freezing snow. It was about just as much as the proud and newly reborn nation could take.

"Keep your damn hands off of him!"He warned. Ivan payed him no attention.

For decades Gilbert's power had waned, but now he was finally there again. He was no longer helpless before the elements.

If Ivan wanted him to stay down, then he needed a bigger gun.

A hard jerk on the collar of Gilbert's uniform jacket wrenched him backwards, spinning him in a full circle. Arms linked around his own, holding him back just a few feet from the Polish / Belorussian border. Adler continued to crawl as fast as he could towards the relative safety of Polish lands, but Ivan had already covered the distance between them and with a quick move planted his foot in the middle of Adler's back, holding him in place.

Adler moved his head enough to glare heatedly at the personification who now held him down with a muddy boot – pushing harder than what was needed to keep him down in an almost mocking display of power. With a content chuckle, Ivan looked down at the rogue who seethed from his place on the ground. "Looks like I caught you. Sorry but you won't have a chance to be 'it'."

Gilbert kicked and flailed before looking up to see what bastard would dare hold him back. His brother wasn't budging an inch, cold blue eyes holding a flicker of regret.

"Damn it WEST! You let me go you son of a bitch! Fuck off! Let me go!"

"You can't cross over Gilbert!"

"NO! What the hell are you doing – put me down! ADLER!"

Ludwig held on for dear life; knowing that to let go of his brother would mean to lose him – perhaps forever. So for everything he was worth he held onto the man that cursed and kicked and screamed at him to let go. He felt the stiffness in Gilbert's body as Ivan reached the shot man, holding him down with a steady foot.

Ivan said something to him before addressing the others in attendance. "Oh. It seems we have a crowd." He mused aloud with a light and airy voice that was eerily out of place considering the situations gravity. "Well, there is nothing here – an internal issue if you will."

"I hardly think it's internal at all – Russia." Ludwig growled out as he struggled to contain his brothers anger. "It's an international incident!"

"No. It is a personal incident. You see, this human-" Ivan indicated with an uncomfortably close wave of his steel pipe near Adler's face, causing the man to flinch involuntarily. "has injured my beloved sister Natalya. There is some 'payment' due for that."

"This is not the way." Ludwig reasoned, his brother having fallen quiet as he prayed that Ludwig's negotiation skills might save the day. "Please, remember what we ourselves have talked about."

At this Ivan's face showed a flicker of disquiet – as if he was not sure of his actions. Then his expression hardened.

"This is personal. It is different."

"It is no different." Ludwig assured him.

Adler tried to move again only for Ivan to press harder on the squirming captive. After a long pause, Ivan asked: "Which of you nations does he belong to?"

"He's mine damn it! So let him go!" Gilbert yelled. Ivan only laughed.

"So he is nobodies. Then I will keep him. You may leave now."

With a growl the Russians captive rolled out from under his feet and made a stumble forward. Ivan caught him by the arm and was immediately struck hard across the jaw – enough to make him stagger back just a step in shock; though unfortunately for Adler not enough to make him let go.

With a thick curse Ivan struck the General with his pipe, the metal colliding full on with Adler's ribs. He dropped without even a sound, clutching at his chest desperately with fast and wheezing coughs. Ivan seemed unimpressed as he swung the suddenly compliant human by the arm, locking him into a one armed bear-hug.

Gilbert exploded into action, kicking and hitting in a vain attempt to free his injured body.

"DAMN IT! STOP! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! IVAN! Stop it! Damn~"

His head growing light, the Prussians voice began to trail off into nothingness as a darkness overtook his vision. Ludwig was loathe to do such a thing, even under the circumstances. But his brother would only cause more trouble for all of them. And if if worse came to worse...

_It might be better for him to sleep through this... _Ludwig reasoned.

Ivan paused in his actions looking up to see Ludwig lying his brother gently in the snow, having put him into a hold tight enough that when combined with the loss of blood had worked to cause the man to black out. Taking the minute or so of time it would give him Ludwig locked eyes with the Russian only meters away on the barren field. It was a delicate situation.

_I don't know who that is._ Ludwig mused; keeping his eyes focused on Ivan and the stranger even as he heard Feliks and Toris plowing through the underbrush and snow behind him. _But my brother is willing to fight Russia for him. I wonder who it could be. In any case how do I get him from Russia?_

It was the nations solid stance alone that kept Adler on his feet – the General shaking and gasping with each breath. He looked up, brown eyes wide and fearful. But the look was replaced with wide-eyed silence as he took in the scene before him; Gilbert subdued by a taller blonde haired man – an impossible feat for anyone but a fellow nation. And coming down the slope behind them were two other men; a brunette with another blonde.

Feliks' eyes went wide as he first saw the personification of Russia, and then what that personification held.

"You?" Feliks yelled as he approached the dividing line. He wore an expression of sheer bemusement – as if not sure what to make of the whole situation and his eyes flicked back and forth from the struggling brothers to the rouge General and the nation that held him captive. Then he firmly and quietly asked; "What the hell are you doing here?"

Noting the numbers against him increasing, Ivan slowly allowed the General to slip to the ground – the man making a heavy and limp sound in the snow. Having lain the twice injured man in the snow he moved closer to the boundary-line, observing it's flickering energy. With his prisoner no longer pinned against him Ivan noticed the bloody marks that now adorned the front of his jacket and scowled – but only for a moment. He knew well enough that they would fade sufficiently with time; they always had before.

"Settling a score. As I told Germany it's an internal issue." Ivan repeated coldly.

"I thought you were better than that." Ludwig retorted, blue eyes flashing. "That you could be good enough to rise above petty violence and villainy. I suppose I was wrong. I'll have to inform my boss about that."

At this Ivan frowned, moving towards Ludwig – yet still keeping to his side of the shimmering aura line in the snow.

"That is not necessary." Ivan stated, seeming a bit nervous. The prospect of Germany backing out on their co-operation would not sit well with Ivan's government - especially not when they found out the reason _why_. So Ivan now found himself trying to mend fences.

"You do not have to inform anyone. Surely we can settle this ourselves?"

"Can we?" Ludwig asked, teeth gritted. There was no telling what way in which it might be 'settled' if Ivan were in a difficult mood. Adding to this, Gilbert wouldn't stay unconscious too long and as soon as he woke Ludwig would be right back at square one.

The German moved a bit further to his right, edging away from his brothers prone body as if trying not to disturb him. Ivan kept pace, careful not to so much as lean across the fence and into Polish territory.

"I'm sure I can think of something. Perhaps...prison might be gentler?"

"A Russian prison might be gentler?" Ludwig asked incredulously.

_Even Ivan must understand the foolishness of that statement._ He mused.

"Gentler than what? And if you do take him to prison then when might you be releasing him? Any estimated time?"

Ivans violet eyes seemed to glow with a dark light. "Release? I said nothing of that. Only imprisonment."

"He needs to be held accountable for what he's done." Ludwig stated.

With a slight smile Ivan nodded. "I wholeheartedly agree. However; on _my_ terms for the crimes against my sister."

"And how will you justify a life sentence for assault? I know she did not die as a result."

Ivan glowered. "She was injured! Assault with a deadly weapon – how do you punish that in your nation?"

Ludwig held his own. "A trial is inevitably involved at some point."

The Russian across from him gave a snort and glanced back toward the 'prisoner'. "ЧЁРT!"

Lithuania flinched, pulling harder in an attempt to completely drag the injured man over to the Polish side of the border. "Aggh! Come on!"

"Liet! Hurry up!" Feliks yelled as a red in the face Ivan barreled towards them yelling every profanity that came to mind. "He's gonna get him!" Reaching out over the fence, then climbing on top of it the Pole successfully grabbed hold of Adler. In seconds Toris joined him on the barrier and both were in the process of pulling him over when they ran out of time. Nearly halfway across the fence, Adler was suddenly snatched with a vice-like grip on his injured arm, causing him to shriek as the muscle and bone reacted. Toris and Feliks froze, now staring down tensely through the fence at Ivan who stared heatedly back.

Adler was barely breathing, so frightened had he become by the horrible turn of events. He was more than halfway over a fence between Poland and Belarus in the middle of an international tug of war.

_It's okay._ He braced himself, not brave enough to look back at the Russian. _I can lose an arm...I'll survive. It will be fine – I just hope it's quick. _

"Let go." Ivan ordered, his voice unusually low and calm with a tone that hinted he fully expected to be obeyed without question.

Toris felt a shaking start in his chest and work it's way to the rest of him. His eyes were burning. Nothing had happened yet; but that voice always ensured that something would. He had horrible visions of Ivan descending on the stranger like a monstrous creature and literally tearing him to pieces. Scared green eyes flashed over to look at Feliks, who hadn't broken his staring contest with Ivan. The two stayed perfectly motionless until a sharp gasp from Adler re-focused his attention – the result of Adler's arm being painfully crushed in Ivan's grip.

Feliks spared just a second to look over at Adlers face. In the next instant he felt something hit him – hard enough to throw him off of the thin metal fence. He landed in the snow with a heavy thud that was nearly simultaneous with the sound of others hitting the ground as well. Spinning to a sitting position as quick as possible he saw Toris and the unknown man on the ground – on the far side of the fence.

Ivan bore a strange look on his face – a mixture of disbelief and joy as he stared at the Lithuanian who slowly rose to his feet, dusting off snow as he stood. The brunette turned to look over his left shoulder at his friend, who was in just as much shock as the Russian across from him.

All at once Toris was scooped into Ivans arms, the man holding him tight and squeezing him to his chest the way a child would a new toy.

"LITVA! How good of you to come visit me! This is wonderful! We have so much to catch up on – I've been lonely without you to do all my cleaning and cooking and such! Yes; we can go back to the way it was again!"

"Russia!" Ludwig yelled out, coming to a halt near Felik's side. He helped the stunned and silent nation to his feet but Felik never broke eye contact with Ivan. Slowly, the largest nation realized that he was being closely observed.

"I think Lithuania will be my guest for a while." He spoke, suddenly professional. "We will need to fill out paperwork regarding his 'unusual' entry into my sisters lands. As you know, Belarus is not exactly a passive nation such as you to the west."

"I would hardly call ourselves passive." Ludwig growled. "Furthermore even if he entered 'unusually' as you say this does not give you the right to detain him. We have laws that govern the movements of nations."

"I am aware of such laws, I will not hurt little Litva. He will merely keep me company while I figure out what to do with this...interloper." Ivan added the last bit slowly, his eyes flickering over to the man barely moving in the snow. "For now the discussion is over – contact my government for further information."

"Ivan!" Feliks finally yelled, coming back to the moment. The Russian had released Toris and now gazed patiently at the blond that stood on the far side of the fence.

"Don't you harm one single hair on his head! You know the laws of nations and what will happen if you so much as scratch him."

There was a flicker of indignation in Ivans eyes and he growled out. "I am aware of them. I will return _Lithuania_ in pristine condition."

Feliks felt like he could sink in to the ground. There was a good chance though that Ivan would follow the law when it came to Toris – there was too much for him to lose by breaching the trust of fellow personifications if he didn't. Now that Russia was being perceived as more and more agreeable a bad incident with a 'diplomat' by the government would send everyone running off again. But the other man, the human may not fare near so well...

Ivan turned away, trudging back through the snow in the direction he'd come.

"We must leave. Litva and I have so much to catch up on! Oh; and Little Litva could you pick that up for me? Thank you."

With a wave of his hand Ivan flippantly implied the captured General and with a cold nod the Lithuanian complied, gently bending to cradle the injured man as best he could before trudging dejectedly behind the towering nation – but only after giving Feliks a stern look and a slight, wane smile.

When the trio had disappeared into the dark of the woods – far out of sight of those on the far side of the fence Ivan once again spoke.

"I suppose that was on purpose then? You are not so irrational."

Toris stiffened, minding his step as they traversed the deep snow. This suit of his was already ruined from mud and slush – now the blood from the shot man was finishing it off.

"Perhaps we should walk faster sir. A mere human out in this cold will not last long with his injuries. And...he is a wanted criminal in the world community – a lot of nations are looking forward to finding out what this is all about."

"World community?" At this Ivan halted, boots crunching in the crusty snow. The Russians head turned just enough for one eye to focus on the Lithuanians.

"And what does he mean to the 'World community'? Germany mentioned that he was a highly sought after criminal. You would not happen to know what crime he has committed would you?"

Toris kept his mouth shut – eyes focusing on anything but Ivan.

Then Ivan gave a slight smile. "Although your expert analysis is not needed."

The brunette jerked his head up in surprise.

Ivan continued to walk, now maintaining a blistering pace.

He remembered it all too well.

Firstly, the day that Poland was invaded by the joint task force that later fractured into Sword and Shield. He had been genuinely surprised by Feliks' appearance; and especially with which the speed such things had happened. It should have taken someone with immense strength and skill to do so much in such a small span of time. Of course if he had not tried to take advantage of the situation others would have thought him ill.

Furthermore; it was a fun thing for him to do. His new pastime.

But even he had come to the conclusion that Germany was behind the invasion.

* * *

_Ivan exited the conference room, confident that he'd left he room exactly as he should – with a warning. Striding purposefully away from the room he continued down the hall, his shoes squeeking disagreeably with the mud and snow that the Polish man had dragged in. Nearly at the elevators he heard it give a soft 'ding' as the door opened and revealed that golden haired infamous 'bad boy' of the EU as Ivan had once heard America quip. One of the few things he'd ever listened to coming out of the fat imperialists mouth. _

_ Despite his own nature Ivan had to admire his new talking partner. For if there was one thing he could sympathize with it was a fighter. But today Germany seemed a bit more restless than usual – concerned. He practically sped out of the elevator and would not have even stopped to greet him if he had not purposefully blocked his path. _

_ "Ah...Ivan!" The man startled, stepping back a bit. "I was just heading to the meeting. Um..by chance have you seen Poland? He seems to be having a bit of...em...trouble I guess. I wanted to ensure that he was okay."_

_ Ivan said nothing, there was nothing to say – Ludwigs manner and appearance said it all. _

_ When Feliks had entered the room he was covered with bruises, mud and his clothes were slightly torn and disheveled. He'd obviously been in a fight. However; Ludwig showed no sign of conflict at all on him. Ivan would have assumed that Ludwig could have cleaned himself up if it were not for one simple thing; he still had fresh snow on his jacket. _

_ Ludwig had come straight up on the elevator without stopping. _

So it is not him. That is a relief...strangely enough. _Ivan had mused before continuing on his way._

_ That had been the first sign. Naturally then Ivan assumed it was someone else who hadn't been at the meeting – namely Prussia. And especially after the late entrance of Ludwig and Roderick only a day or so later and the appearance of the prodigal nation himself within short order. In fact, it was after that meeting that he made a huge breakthrough. _

_ They had been arguing outside. Ivan parted ways with Toris and Feliks, boarding the elevator and heading to the ground floor. _

_ He really hated Feliks. He couldn't stand anyone that got in the way of him and Toris. But Toris had chosen this life – a life without Ivan and no one but Toris could change that. Ivan could only bitterly muse about promises that were so easily forgotten. _

_ Once he reached the ground floor Ivan tried ( without luck ) to blend into the Berlin crowd as well as a tall Russian could. _

_ He walked block after block, winding and turning but always keeping that onerous albino in his sight. It was difficult not to be discovered however; with Gilbert checking his steps so frequently. At last Ivan had been led to a park and through the gaps in the winter leaves he had seen the man Gilbert was going to meet. Ivan had smiled at the admission of making Alfred cry – for he himself had truly enjoyed that part. _

_ The dark haired man had looked around, seemingly as on edge as Gilbert himself. _

_ "Where do we go from here?" The man had asked._

_ "I think...we go back to base." Gilbert responded. The next question came quickly. _

_ The stranger asked, "Do you trust me?" _

_ "Hell no."_

_ "Fine. Come on then. I know I'm going to get an earful for this..."_

_ "Hey, Adler?" _

Ah. A name for this mystery man._ Ivan made a note of it. _

_ Instead of continuing on Adler slowed, then turned around. "Yeah?"_

_ "I don't trust you. I don't trust your organization."_

So there is an organization – one run by this 'Adler'.

_ "And quite frankly I don't like the way you're barging through another country like this."_

This man is behind the invasion...

_ "But...I don't want to die just yet either. So I'll leave you alone – I won't interfere but that also means I won't help you either if you get into deep shit. And if you get arrested or killed it's your own damn fault. But keep this in mind;" Gilbert's voice suddenly lowered. "I won't let you do anything that would compromise me – or my name. And you're not dragging Ludwig into this. He's his own nation and if you get into a fight then you've got to deal with it. Don't ask me to pull strings. And don't ask me to murder people. So. Is that possible? Can you do that?"_

_ "Anything you 're the boss."_

_ "Wait? I'm the boss?" Gilbert clarified, pointing at himself._

_ "Yeah. Isn't the nation always the boss?"_

_ Gilbert laughed all the way to the car. __And then the two were off. _

Adler. The leader of the invasion force trying to take over Polish territory. The one all nations would be looking for soon enough. It was only pure and foolish luck that had led to Adler and Ivans paths crossing. In the deep of the forest, when he heard that name and saw that face. He had known full well who he was dealing with.

Now Lithuania continued to stare at him with wide eyed confusion even as they marched back through the frozen forests towards the east – towards Moscow.

Ivan smiled ominously in response to why the smaller brunettes information was no longer necessary.

"After all, he is Prussia's."

* * *

**Authors Note: **

Yay! Next chapter! I'm kind of amazed that this story has gone on as long as it has personally. It's only because you keep reading ( though I greatly enjoy writing it I'll admit )

_Prussia: Pfft. When you actually write._

Don't start with me.

_Germany: You __**are**__ a little irregular_.

Oh...go sleep or something.

Let me know if there's something I need to fix and Thank you for reading!


	17. Beginning of the Waltz

He could hear again.

The soft crunching of feet moving through snow was like a crescendoing static that had begun to replace the strange echoing darkness of his unconscious mind. In that strange land between awake and asleep he had heard ancient words of wisdom – the prayers of nations.

It was old, older than all of them. It was as old as civilization itself.

Sometime back when people stopped living around wane campfires or tucked in isolated caves – around the time they started actually building structures to call home – the first nations had begun to form. And they and their descendants would spend century upon century fighting tooth and nail. At times friends, others enemies. Allegiances based on human whim and human folly that could turn lovers into murderers in the blink of a historical eye.

No one could cope with that.

Some nations retreated into nothingness, willing themselves into an oblivion that offered peace they could never hope to see in life. Still others limped through the world as best they could; growing older, wiser, stronger. And some just cracked like a piece of glass, their fractured mentality forever warping what potential they may have started out with.

So nations prayed sometimes. To who or what they didn't really know – deities were something that humans trusted in; their infinitely shorter and easier lives allowing them to hold a deeper faith than an entity that sees thousands of years of war and destruction.

Eventually, the ancients codified a sort of mnemonic to ease the pain that humanity caused.

_**'Heaven hides nothing in it's measure' **_

Gilbert shifted slightly. Now he had come back to the waking world – the warmth of his brothers back a stark contrast to the biting cold. He was sure that he was bleeding all over his relatives suit-jacket. Gilbert refused to feel sorry. The jacket was old and should have been thrown away decades ago. Good riddance.

"Ludwig. What are you doing here?"

The nations brother gave an uncomfortable sigh as he carried his brother. The story was too long for him to explain with such little energy left. Feliks walked silently beside him, his emerald eyes occasionally flicked towards the stoic nation to his right. Feliks couldn't help but wonder how long he could keep up the game. He had his reasons for taking the German on as his bodyguard, and none of them were the reasons he had given. But things had turned unexpectedly dire and both were in a bind; though, they hoped that it would be temporary.

"Gilbert, I have some bad news." Ludwig greeted the weary albino. The Prussian buried his face in the back of his brothers neck. Ludwig wasn't sure how to proceed when he felt the warmth of fresh tears tracing their way down his nape. After that he didn't say anything else. Gilbert retreated into the world of his dreams.

_**'Formless and vanquished we will travel' **_

_ **'Shield and Sword will guide our battle.' **_

_Shield and Sword..._

"Hey Ludwig...I have some bad news for you too."

"Really? What is it?"

Gilbert swallowed, his throat achingly dry from the cold and the fear. He was trying to control the tremors in his voice. "That guy...was my boss."

Nothing seemed to move in the deep forest. The German was glued to his spot and only stared unbelieving into space. Gilbert shifted and Ludwig let him down so that he could turn and face him. Gilbert stared back up at his relative with a slight, wane smile.

"Yeah...long story short, I have kids now."

There was a long pause, the sort of unbelieving silence that falls when any incredible news is revealed. Then Ludwig quickly scooped that bumbling, brash brother of his into a massive hug and just held him for a while.

It was something bittersweet – a strange sensation of joy and sorrow that Ludwig wasn't entirely sure how to process. It meant his brother was both moving away one danger yet racing headlong toward another.

_He's alive. He's in danger. He is dangerous. He could still die. He could hurt someone else. He's still alive and he'll live a bit longer. _

To say it was both what Ludwig hoped for and dreaded would be to say the earth is round. There was no force on earth that could ease the pain of loosing his own kin. But there was nothing that frightened him more than his own brother – or at least nothing more than himself.

After the long moment he released Gilbert, standing to look at him seriously. "Are you alright now?"

Gilbert sniffed a bit. "Yeah. Guess I'm not as good an actor as I thought. How long have you known what was going on?"

"_I _still talk with Old Man Israel."

The albino gave a weak laugh. "I should have known he'd spill the beans on me. Here I was trying not to worry you."

Ludwig pulled back, his arms holding the other nation firmly in place as he gazed with emotional sapphire eyes. "As if running away and disappearing would not?"

"I knew you'd say that." Chuckled the other man. Both hesitated in their banter a moment to glance back at the blond staring as silent as winter at them.

Feliks hadn't said a word – his _mind_ was too busy screaming for his mouth to say anything at all. Behind those bright green eyes an argument was raging in his head – mental scales weighing every option. There must have been a team inside there, turning the wheels over and over until they made so much noise he thought he might go deaf. Feliks was alone and unarmed at an unknown location in the depths of ancient forests with the two nations on earth that had nearly succeeded in their wish to completely and utterly kill him. Now they were rejoicing in their good fortune – that Prussia was a nation again; for the moment at least.

This reunion of family would have been sweet if the context in which it was placed wasn't so revolting. How was Feliks supposed to feel? In his skull echoed the forbidding words of recently lost Toris – a friend he may not see again for a long time due to their own fool kindness – telling him not to trust, not to associate, and above all NEVER be alone with the nation of Germany. Now he was standing forsaken and alone with two of them.

Ludwig and Gilbert silently watched Feliks who in turn stared blankly back at the two of them. Not one of the three dared to move – to even breath. The air had quite suddenly become thick and tense, like a black cloud had descended on them and blocked everything but this one horrible realization out: the only way for Prussia to exist was by taking something from someone else.

He could take from Germany, if Germany's government would allow it.

He could take from Russia if he had a death wish.

He could take from Poland if he was strong enough to.

The next sound was laughter thin and harsh.

"So." Feliks chuckled, a manic tinge to his eyes. "I guess that's it then. Back to normal are we? Good... Every things normal. Normal again."

The two brothers held their breath. No plumes of white hot breath traced their way around their heads as they stood silent as stone.

There was a snap of a twig, a flash of snow; then Feliks was gone.

Ludwig let out a deep breath, the sound echoing in the forest. With a weary energy he strode over to where the Polish man had been standing and pensively traced the marks in the snow with his eyes. There were two parallel lines, delicately brushed into silvery powder with down. Then he cast his gaze around the area. Nothing to be seen.

"I suspected that he might have followed us. Well, I felt as much anyway."

"That white bird of his?"

"The Eagle. Yes." Ludwig corrected the informality sternly; well aware that Feliks may be nearby. It was knowledge he hated, this feeling once again surfacing as he turned back towards his injured brother. Gilbert's wounds had started to heal. Beyond all human ability the blood had stopped and the muscle and bone began to knit itself back together with an eternal diligence. The regeneration itself testified to his renewed position as an international force.

For now the shaky Prussian was once again back on his feet. However; the arrogant smirk that normally graced his pale face had vanished nearly as quickly as Feliks had. Gilbert wasn't the least bit happy.

"You're looking a bit less than thrilled." He murmured. "You don't look shocked either though."

Ludwig raised a hand to tousle his hair. He couldn't help feel that something had been forgotten – and to his annoyance it wasn't any one of the thousands of things he could have wished forgotten. How could an open land feel so closed in – he was feeling claustrophobic in the open air. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to be here. Ludwig wanted to be at his desk in Berlin with his coffee and his paperwork and his office that smelled like old books and worn leather. Not here, in woods that echoed and cried and clawed at his skin. Could that brother of his _not _feel that on his flesh? Or was it just Polish land rejecting the German nation that had last come in war, not peace.

He wanted to be home, not a place where all roads led back to his own crimes.

With yet another deep sigh he pointed himself at where he guessed the car should be and started walking. Gilbert would have to either follow or freeze.

Gilbert followed.

"Ludwig. It's not all sunshine and roses over here."

The man in front made no indication that he'd heard a thing. Only silent stomping through snow.

"There are two groups fighting to be my government. One is Shield – they're the guys Adler's in charge of. They don't want to hurt the people here, they just want me back."

"We'll talk later. First I need to get you back home."

A growl of irritation cut through the frozen air. "It can wait! This is important Ludwig – so stop and listen to me damn it!"

Ludwig refused to cease for a moment. "I'll listen to you in the car. I'll listen to you when we get back home. But Gilbert please do not make me listen to you HERE."

"You can't shove this under the rug!" Gilbert snapped. His hobbling quickened until he was even with that long legged man that refused to take two seconds out of the day for him.

"I swear to God Ludwig, you listen to me right now – we have a massive issue here that we need to fix as soon as possible before a lot of people die!"

"Gilbert!"

Ludwig's grip wasn't gentle. It wasn't as if he was deliberately trying to hurt his brother; the talon-like grip in both arms was just a side effect. In the blink of an eye Gilbert shut his mouth. Something had finally clicked in that panicking brain of his; the thought had entered his mind that his brother might be suffering somehow from all this. But even if he hadn't guessed, Ludwig was set on telling him.

The blond gave a deep breath, shaking his head with that special sort of exasperation one shows when they're at their wits end. "When? When have I ever asked anything so great of you? I don't want to explain why or how...but at this time, in this moment I _cannot_ talk about this Gilbert. I can't. Not here. Not now. There are...too many things in the earth, the air, the trees and it's killing me. So when we get to the car, talk there. I just can't out here."

Crimson eyes wide, Gilbert returned his brothers unwavering gaze. It was intimidating, the level of pain that seemed to be in there. It nearly broke his heart to see family looking so mentally and spiritually beat up. But some things couldn't wait.

"Ludwig." Gilbert spoke, his voice unusually small for someone with an ego as big as his. "I'm sorry...but this can't wait. I'd wait if it could but you've got to understand this. Like I said, there are two groups that make up 'me' now and one of them is a bunch of really good guys. But the other ones...they're full on Nazi's Ludwig and there's a lot more of them then there are of us."

There was a heavy pause, as if the world had suddenly landed on them without so much as a word of warning.

"You're...overreacting."

"You know I don't joke about this Ludwig. Not about this." Gilbert felt his throat tighten as his brothers very form became stiff, as if contact were now suddenly being thought of as something very bad. It was like Gilbert had just revealed he had a big nasty disease and now Ludwig was deathly afraid he'd catch it. Yep. It was one hell of a 'bug' – the Ebola of political parties. "I've only got one more line of defense."

"What is it?"

Gilbert looked away. "The second in command is still out here. In the woods. And he's probably looking for me. The fact of the matter is he needs to know that he's in charge now. I can feel that Adler's still my boss but-" At this he choked up a minute, silence preceding his next words.

"We know Russia. He may not be my boss much longer. Right now his second in command is the only one who can run Shield. If he gets taken out of the picture then my leadership switches to Sword."

Having said this, he lowered his voice to a weary whisper, like someone condemning themselves to the gallows. The end of the line. "We need the vault."

A hissing intake of air passed through Ludwig's mouth, the man reacting as if he had been physically injured by the statement.

"Surely it's not that -"

"Ludwig. It's got to be that.

There was more protesting, more stammering, more anger and then finally acceptance. The long walk to the car was the most depressing thing either of them had dealt with in a long long time.

* * *

Feliks sighed, the warmth of his great protector around him. Like an invisible cloak of down and plumes the White Eagle shielded him from sight and sound – it's feathers hiding him in snow and muffling his breath in it's soft heat. He absently traced a hand over the long feathers as he leaned with his back against the birds towering chest.

He'd come in the nick of time – Feliks had just about lost it. Then he's seen that flash of white and knew he was safe again. Once again Feliks couldn't help but say a prayer of thanks that this time around his one true bodyguard was in one piece. This mystical creature of his; how was it possible that a seven foot tall eagle was invisible? Could a mountain hide in a prairie?

Invisible and unnoticed he could eavesdrop on the two nations as long as needed. Of course he still couldn't understand German. He didn't need to this time. Wordlessly, through contact alone the words came to his mind courtesy of his majestic translator. And in the end he heard them leave. Feliks heard them walk away.

_So it has come to this again._

Feliks nodded. _It won't be the same as the last. This time we know what we need to do._

Light as air, soft as snowflakes, once again they disappeared into the fabric of the landscape itself.

* * *

There was a horrible rattling sound like a rock stuck in a tin can being bounced down a hill. It scraped and clanged against the inside of the brunettes mind.

Gjord looked out over the countryside and held his breath as the truck came to a halt, the brakes squealing loud and shrill in the snow. Stepping from the cab he dropped into the crystalline powder; cursed at the weather and raised both arms in the universal signal for surrender as the uniformed men advanced with weapons drawn.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

Yes. Short. Long time in coming and short. Panic not, there's a reason. I realized that if I do shorter chapters I update more often and I do a better job at editing them. Then I just merge three or four later into a longer chapter when I have some time.

So...I'll try and do it this way from now on so theres not, you know, month long gaps between updates.

Thanks for putting up with _m_e. And thanks for reading!


	18. Recovery

**Ring. Ring. Ring. Ri-**

Hey, You've reached my totally fabulous voice-mail. Like, leave a message and I'll totes get back to you whenever and junk. Oh, Liet! If this is you just hang up already 'cause I'm totally calling you as we speak. Kay? Bye.

Wait, if this is someone who _shouldn't_ have my number then you better knock it off or my security will be totally pissed. Later.

**Beep.**

"And since when should I not have your number? I have been always loving non? It may sound strange from me but I have some concerns about our...eh...mutual neighbor if you will. Please return my call – I will be waiting to hear from you."

**Beep.**

"-it that way. No, I'm on the phone. Oh! Feliks? This is Feli. I just wondered...um...but...do you know where Ludwig is? I mean, I haven't seen him in a while and he normally leaves a note if he's going somewhere. Gilbert's gone too. Roderich doesn't know where anyone is! I'm calling from Elizaveta's place – we're having a sleepover! It's so much fun! Oh...she says if you want to come over you can! Do you! It would be so much wonderful, ve~. Just call us back. Ciao!"

**Beep. **

"Sir. We have some urgent information. We've captured a group of suspicious persons in the lake district. Intelligence has also received word of a plan -we don't know the details but we're insisting that you return to Warsaw immediately."

**Beep. **

* * *

There was a little black BMW parked quite strangely on a deserted road, waiting for it's occupants to return from whatever errand had been so vital. It had sat there ever so patiently for the long hours since it's abandonment. It was somewhat of a miracle that no living being, save a few small birds, had been close enough to observe it.

To Ludwig the car had never seemed so beautiful. It could have been a chariot waiting to whisk him away to a carefree wonderland for all he cared. But as much as he wanted to leap into that finely sewn leather drivers seat the man had come to a stop in the deep snow; ignoring the ever descending temperature for just a moment to stare in wonder at the scene before him.

The short Polish man nervously twirled his hair. "Uh. So. You guys are kind of in a restricted area. If my kids catch you here you'll totes be in a ton of trouble. I mean, it wouldn't really feel right letting you fend for yourself and all." At this the smaller man shrugged. "I'd be a bad host if I didn't at least escort you home. And I mean, we still have an arrangement and all."

Silence hung in the air for a moment. The unexpected convergence playing out against the setting sun. With slow, but calm steps the silver haired form moved toward the other personification. Feliks watched, forcing his heart to be still and his breathing to slow down. He wasn't merely watching – he was observing.

The way Prussia limped from the bullets that had torn through him, yet still managed to stand. The way his movement was unhurried but diligent. But most importantly, Feliks observed his eyes – those haunting blood-red orbs that had haunted so many dreams and waking nightmares.

When Gilbert had reached the car – Ludwig trailing cautiously behind – Feliks let out a small smirk.

Those red eyes bored into him. "So. Why did you run away, if you were only going to come back in the end?"

Feliks made no move. "You know. Those eyes of yours are totes trippy."

Gilbert raised a brow. "You mean totally awesome."

"More like completely freaky."

The albino sighed, looking far too tired for any kind of games. Feliks continued. "Eyes tell you a lot about a person. They're, like, the windows to the soul and all. And your eyes are some of the strangest I've ever seen."

"I guess. What of it?" Gilbert asked, reaching for the passenger side door.

"You're scared."

With a telltale halt, the rogue nation grew very still. Feliks moved from his place to open the door to the back seat. "I want to know why."

"In the car." Ludwig ordered both sternly.

The car roared to life moments later, sluggishly pulled itself from the grip of frozen snow and then picked up speed, turning the nearby countryside to a blur. In the welcome warmth of the automobile Gilbert began spinning his tale as the trio moved through the darkening night.

"About a week ago I started getting sick. Not sort of sick like the 'I can totally kick this colds ass' but the really 'holy shit I'm dying' sick. I thought it would get better and it didn't. When Ludwig left for work it got a lot worse."

* * *

_Gilbert struggled to move, his breath gurgling in his throat. The room was spinning and spinning so much that it was making him nauseous. Gil-bird had become a golden blur that flitted in and out of his darkening vision. It wasn't the first time it had happened but it was by far the worse. Cold bathroom tiles soothed his burning skin. Gilbert thanked his lucky stars he'd made it that far – cleaning blood out of wood and carpet was a real pain in the ass and with Ludwig being so damn observant of everything the jig would be up. _

_ It took some time before the world began to return. As Gilbert's strength seeped back into his body he rose, cleaned himself and the bathroom up and stumbled through his bedroom towards the heavy chest at the edge of his bed. _

_ The smell of old memories hit him dead on and a wave of warm and bitter nostalgia came with it. Gilbert dug through the knick-knacks and trinkets of earlier eras and at the bottom his fingers brushed well worn wool. Dragging the old uniform out of it's place he resumed his search until the accompanying equipment had been recovered as well. _

This was always hotter than shit. Why did we use wool again?

_ With a deliberate sense of procrastination Gilbert took his time dressing, closing each button and pulling both still shined leather boots on with a near religious reverence. Gil-bird had quieted greatly by then, resting protectively on his life-long masters shoulder – tiny beak nuzzled under Gilbert's silvery hair in an avian display of kinship. _

_Gil-bird squeaked piteously when he was removed and for the first time actively fought against being placed in his golden cage. It was clear he wanted to go, Gilbert had firmly decided that he could not. _

_ Moving downstairs he trailed his hand on the wooden rails and laid eyes on the pictures hung in the hall. At the door his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. Then he was gone. _

* * *

"I managed to limp my sorry ass all the way into Poland. Seriously, that hike sucked."

Ludwig made a strange disbelieving ( and incredibly exasperated ) noise in his throat. "Why on earth did you think it was a good idea to walk into Poland? What good would that do?"

Gilbert picked at his uniform, and winced. The suit he felt good about ruining, the beamer not so much. The man sighed. "I wanted to be home."

The three grew silent for a moment. Then Gilbert sighed, eyes focusing out into the starry sky. He watched every tree – knew every inch like an old and long lost friend. The deed had changed hands but the land still felt hauntingly familiar to him.

"I just wanted to go home, back to the home I knew and remembered. Back to the place I was born, where I fought and lived and nearly died a couple of times. The place where I knew every tree and stone and little stream. Even if it was just for a moment I wanted to go back. I figured the least I could do was die someplace that felt familiar."

After this Gilbert scratched his neck. "I don't know bro. But anyway while I was out dying in the woods Adler found me. Turned out he was in the area. He was the joint leader of Sword and Shield up until Sword staged a coup. I mean...that was probably my fault. I said I wouldn't join them so Adler drove me back to Berlin. And while we were gone Sword kicked the daylights out of everyone and killed about a third of the good guys."

"This was when you came to the meeting?" Feliks clarified, remembering back to the events of that day.

"Yeah." Gilbert confirmed. "That's why I booked it out of there, Adler was waiting and I didn't want him to get caught by Berlin P.D. Then we started heading back towards Poland and heard on the radio that someone had tried to kill you. How the hell did that even happen by the way?"

Feliks sighed. "It's, like, a totally long story."

"Anything cool happen?" Gilbert inquired. Feliks gave a slight smile.

"I totes decked Austria."

"Sweet." Gilbert chirped. Ludwig groaned loudly to the amusement of both.

"Glad someone agrees." Feliks chuckled. Ludwig gave him a 'look' through the rear-view.

"I'd appreciate if no more injuries to my family occurred."

"I apologized...kind of."

After a moment the driver sighed. "So. Gilbert. What happened then? You left with Adler again didn't you? How did you get this far out?"

There was a solemness that came over the man in the passenger seat. For a long time it looked like Gilbert might not answer. Truth be told, he didn't want to explain everything. There was too much sadness, too much loss, too much pain to go over it again. Furthermore; how much could he reveal without hurting his own people? If he had been 'reactivated' as it were, then anything he might say or do could betray his entire miniature nation and kill it before he could blink twice.

"I...well." A groan. "After we left Berlin we ran into Poland's main line of defense. Long story short it involved some fancy driving and a helicopter."

"That was you?" Feliks quipped from the backseat. "In that case you owe me a new coat of paint on that thing."

"They shot at us! I don't owe you shit for nearly killing my boss!" Gilbert complained from the front seat, failing in his endeavor to sound threatening while unable to turn around.

"Those helicopters aren't cheap! Plus, my kids didn't know it was you."

"So they would have stopped?"

"Pft. No."

"Enough already!" Ludwig ordered, playing his oft too used role of referee. "Please, Gilbert what happened when you were with Adler?"

For a minute the man mumbled to himself before straightening up.

"We got shot at by Feliks' troops. Then our own 'kin' tried to straight up murder us at a safe-house. That was...horrible."

From the backseat Feliks picked at the leather trim. "So you were at the house. I knew it was some of the 'ghost army' troops. I didn't know you were there personally."

"You know about it?" Gilbert questioned softly.

"I was there with the investigation team after we found out what happened." Feliks clarified.

After a nervous hesitation, the Prussian asked. "And?"

Feliks looked out the window. "It was quick."

Gilbert nodded before he set his eyes back on the road. "Okay."

There was an understanding between them that Ludwig hesitated to inquire about, but felt he should know. Or at the very least he wanted to know.

In time.

"You remained with Adler through all of this. So how did you get mixed up with Belarus?"

"One of our scouting parties had no sense of direction."

"Understood."

With this Gilbert stretched. "And you know the rest. My boss is captured by Russia, my second in command is God knows where and my third in command is a psychotic asshole who will kill _anyone_ to fulfill this master plan of his. That's why I want the vault."

Ludwig's grip on the wheel tightened a bit. "I see. We'll do it then – this is an unusual situation after all. Before that though, Feliks? Would you like me to drop you off anywhere?"

Having taken a moment to catch up with his own internal affairs, the blond looked up from his phone.

"No. Carry on."

* * *

**Authors Note:**

And there it is! There's not much of a note for this one. Thanks for reading!


	19. Vault

The smell of wood and brocade drifted through the air. Aged books from eras past added to the rooms fragrance. Standing amidst a circular office that had the feel of an ancient library – a stark contrast to the ultra-modern facility that housed it - Feliks felt like a trespasser.

The woman who'd led him there walked away from him and out the door after a giving notice that she would be just down the hall if he needed anything. With quick and efficient steps the navy blue of her business attire disappeared from sight around the edge of the dark wooden door frame.

The wall clock ticked to keep him company.

Emerald eyes surveyed the new surroundings with caution. This was a place he had never been allowed to see. Locked deep in the heart of Germany, in an old and 'abandoned' bunker was this strange and wondrous eden of technology that served as the nations office.

He hadn't seen what it looked like from the outside but he could tell from the feel of it that the concrete was old and extraordinarily thick. The way the metal interacted off of the hard material and obscured the feel of the earth beneath them was all too familiar for this type of gargantuan building. That part he didn't like. This was a war relic; something useful that had been retained from those dark days. But even if it was valuable, it was still something the Nazi's had built – it's value be damned.

Though; Feliks wasn't the one who needed an office that could withstand the test of time. He didn't like fortresses of cold stone walls. His office was wherever he happened to be at the moment – always moving and always hidden. It's much harder to hit a moving target after all.

The heavy wooden bookcases seemed to have a scent of their own that emanated from each intricate floral carving. Most of the books were science, politics or heavy binders of national statistics.

For a moment the Pole boggled that he'd been shuttled into this room in the first place – there was too much information here. Too many secrets.

_So he would trust me alone in a room like this? Does he think I'm that good? Or does he know that I'm too scared to touch a thing._

In the near center of the room rested a solid and immovable desk of finest hardwood – it's polished form casting a deep reddish-brown glow that gave it a sense of life. There were no papers on it. Just a finely wrought black feather quill in a detailed sterling silver holder with a complimentary ink pot beside it.

"He still writes with a quill? Dude. That's like, totally old-school. I've seen him use pens at meetings though – I guess he just likes it better this way." The small blond marveled, leaning in for just a moment before wandering on. Feliks' eyes slid down to the floor. Embedded deep into the marble was a mosaic laid in a multitude of stones that with it's curves formed the landscape of the nation. Each town, village, city and feature was listed and carefully named with a devotion granted to only the most important of tasks. Even the details of the terrain could be seen as the multifaceted colors blended and merged together. The blond wondered if for just a moment – if he leaned down he might see the imprints of tiny houses in that art.

Once he had finished examining the floor Feliks took another glance in a way that spoke to his growing impatience. He was getting hungry and he was far beyond tired. Not to mention his clothes were still damp from melted snow and sweat. The two Germans had disappeared as soon as they were inside the compound – heading to the 'vault' he'd heard them talking about.

Feliks kind of wanted to see it, but really didn't.

Another point of interest caught his eye. It was some sort of strange stand. Not a coat-rack or hat-rack but a stand with one solidly placed horizontal bar at it's apex. Tucked gently into a carved alabaster alcove it's glimmering surface drew Feliks near.

"What's this? It totes looks weird. Hm."

Eyeing the strange piece, Feliks looked to the carvings for inspiration. There were carefully etched feathers in brushed gold that worked their way all over the stand which was set into a heavily weighted base. Feliks doubted he could move it if he tried – at least not using 'human' strength. Near the top of the 'T' was crowned with an inset medallion bearing the old German coat of arms.

"It's a perch." Feliks whispered in sudden realization. Taking a step back he stared up, his eyes tracing the height of the alcove in it's gilded glory. Then those emerald orbs came to focus on the outstretched wings that spanned the width of the ceiling. Painted in a mixture of realistic and traditional heraldic style a graceful and wonderful sable eagle watched from above. The arc of the ceiling gave the impression of a creature in flight, it's feathers gracefully hugging the curves of the room.

Feliks' eyes returned to the black quill. He leaned over the desk to get a better look at the long and curving feather.

One eagles feather in deepest black was to Feliks' knowledge the only thing that remained of the great eagle.

Many centuries ago he'd seen it – the German Eagle that used to soar through the heavens. He remembered it well because the shadow of it's wings falling on him had always made his stomach flip end over end. At times like those he came his own soul close to them.

Long years had passed and slowly Feliks came to dwell on the thought that he hadn't seen the eagle in a long time.

_Not since the war..._

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

The man spun around, bumping himself painfully into the desk. Feliks bit back a mild curse and forced a smile as he faced his 'bodyguard'.

"H-Hi. Like, everything taken care of?"

Ludwig nodded, walking into the room with an unusually casual air – as if being here put him at the greatest ease. "Yes." He noted, making his way around his desk to check the in-box. "It's much easier when the person is willing. Gilbert wanted a few 'extras' added so it took a bit longer than expected. He's so spoiled sometimes I wonder about him."

Standing uncomfortably in the middle of the room Feliks nodded.

Funny, he hadn't been this nervous before.

"Willing?"

Ludwig looked up from the papers, a slight frown on his face as he thought. Then his eyes widened.

"Oh. Well, the first time we used the 'vault' it wasn't our choice – rather, it was the allies who implemented it first."

Feliks was waved toward a chair which he slowly took.

With his guest seated Ludwig moved back around to the front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms.

"The first time is was used was after the capture of Berlin and my unwilling surrender."

Ludwig's face scrunched up. "I remember it well because our accommodations were less than acceptable. However; it was an emergency. Having finally caught my brother and I the Allies were reluctant to take any chances that we might escape. Which Gilbert promptly did I might add. After he was recovered he was immediately sent to Russia."

For a moment Ludwig thought, his mood somber. "I...don't really know a lot of what happened there. However; for me the next twenty years were spent in the 'vault' until it was determined that I had been sufficiently 'cured' of Nazism to run my own nation again."

The German sighed. "Though if I'm truly running things entirely on my own remains to be seen."  
"How so?" Feliks asked, more intrigued than worried.

Ludwig gave a slight shrug. "America. He has bases all over my country just 'in case'. It's a little strange when I think of it; most of the things we've come to see as being for the good of all really originated as ways to keep me 'sane'." He gave a bitter smirk. "The United Nations for example. It's a testament to how badly we frightened the entire world."

Standing, Ludwig shook his head. "In any event, things are normal for the most part now. It would be best if we made our appearance." Thinking better of it, Ludwig added. "That is...after a shower and a change of clothes. And some food would be nice. There's still some time yet."

"I could totes use all that and more." Feliks sighed, standing to follow Ludwig out the door. "But...if you don't mind..."

Ludwig raised a questioning brow. Feliks fought not to retract his question.

"I'd like to see it – if that's possible."

"See what?"

"The vault."

* * *

Surgically clean. Too clean, too shiny.

The whole path leading to the 'vault' was veritably sterile – that strange sort of cleanliness normally reserved for hospice or an asylum. Cameras mounted into the ceiling watched with electronic eyes beneath their bulging black spheres that stuck out like swollen black nodes from the clean white surface. The light was almost blindingly bright despite how far underground they were and their shoes echoed with shattering loudness in their ears.

There was an resounding beeping that grew louder as they approached the center of the hall. Yellow and black tape marked DANGER around an automatic door set to close at the first sign of escape. The signs warned to keep clear of them in the event they started to slam shut as death would most likely result.

The two moved on and the beeping faded into the background once more.

At the very end of he hall was a keypad and a swipe-card. A quick punch, swipe and fingerprint scan later and the door gave a pleasantly quiet swoosh open. The adjacent area was startlingly dark in comparison to the hyper-lit hall. Feliks could barely see what was in front of his face and it gave him goosebumps as old fears came back.

He squashed them. They wouldn't help him now.

"We'll stand here a moment before rounding the corner." Ludwig explained as the door closed behind them. "It will allow our eyes to adjust to the dark."

Sure enough, in a few moments Feliks could make out the dimly lit path that led about five feet in front of them and then turned abruptly left.

Ludwig led the way with Feliks in tow.

Around the corner there was more light. It was a fairly wide hall of nearly ten feet or so at it's largest and nearing twenty-five feet long. At least half that length was taken up on their right side with a glass wall. Most of their light came from the room on the other side.

"This is where we're keeping him. Come on, he can't see you. In fact, Gilbert should not even be able to hear us unless we activate the intercom."

Feliks peered into the room.

There was the silver haired man who so often haunted his nightmares – the one who'd nearly killed him not so many decades ago. The nation who was recently reborn into the world by cutting a place for himself ( however unwittingly ) out of Feliks' hide.

Gilbert was lounging on the couch in a white screen printed t-shirt and distressed black jeans flipping absently through channels.

Feliks sighed. "This is like, so totes trippy. Like to the max."

* * *

**Authors Note:**

**Gilbert** : You stuck me in a hole, AUTHOR.

Dude, _you told them to_. Not my fault.

**Gilbert **: You were supposed to talk me out of it!

Whoops.

Thanks for Reading!


	20. Lull

In the sultry darkness of the candlelit room Klaus waited; the air hot and thick with smoke and incense that made the air hazy and sweet. He didn't like it – the thought that the smell of sage would soak into his clothes to follow him the rest of the day caused his lip to curl slightly. But he could endure it if he got his way in the end. Sharp as glacial ice his eyes cut through the smoke to the others who were around him before moving to carefully study every curve and line etched deep into the stone floor beneath them. The lanky man, withered with something more sinister than age, stood beside him with a book held to his chest.

"I am not one to normally meddle in such..." Klaus paused. "Hocus-pocus. So tell me; will this plan of yours have results? Ones I can see and feel, ones I can use?"

The old man cracked a snaggletoothed grin.

"The first step is to see if it is true to begin with. According to this text-" he patted the book lovingly. "-there are three parts to every state. Just as we have our body, our mind, and our soul so do the nations we hold so dear. Their body is the land, their minds are our multitude of thoughts, and their soul...is a bit trickier to nail down."

Klaus straightened his cuffs, the room was stifling. "So we don't even know what embattled soul we may call forth then? What are we looking for – and will we know it if we see it?"

"We do." The man answered simply, jerking his head to the left where a war banner lay proudly stretched upon the wall as if guarding the sanctuary. "We do indeed. In fact, it's as plain as the eagle in our flag..."

* * *

Toris sat as still as stone, hiding in the silence that filled the car. Only the rumbling of the engine reassured him that he could still hear. From the backseat he watched the driver turn the wheel easily in his large gloved hands. Now and then Ivan would make some small noise as some hidden thought filtered into his mind. But he did not speak and Adler; with wheezing, laboured breath, made the most noise of the three as he lay in the backseat with his head in the comforting baltic's lap.

Toris' hands stayed on the deceptively small exit wound, knowing exactly which of Ivan's sidearms it belonged to. The pressure between his thigh against the mans back and his palms on his chest kept the bleeding to a slow but worrying relentless stream and it was all the Baltic nation could do to bite his tongue and will Ivan to drive faster.

_He's driving as slow as he can. Does that mean he wants this man to die? Then why not just shoot him and be done with it – he's done it before in this same situation_.

A prickle of shame crept up the young mans back. He didn't like thinking this way – in this cruel and detached manner. But he had himself to think of now; though he stood a much better chance than the man wheezing on his lap.

The trip continued on in relative silence and tension hung in the air as sharp and ominous as a knifes edge. In serene beauty the landscape shimmered crystalline around them as if no intrigue, no despair or heartache, could mar the beauty of the Belorussian forests. Toris knew their location. He felt the moment they entered Russian land in his skin as an electric crackle and heard the low ringing tones in his ears, notes that eventually faded back into the rumble of the engine and the throaty breathing of the drivers wounded captive.

An eternity condensed into 47 minutes before Ivan stopped the car. Outside was a small station. With a smile he tapped the steering wheel.

"We're a bit low. Come on, we'll go inside where it's a bit warmer. Did you want something to eat?"

Toris' head jerked back in surprise, silent even as Ivan waited – half turned in his seat – for a reply as if this were just an everyday outing. They may as well have been coming from a meeting.

"But...we need a hospital!" The unwilling hostage blurted out, confused and flustered at having to state the obvious. In all the scenario's he had imagined coming to pass not one involved a petrol station in the middle of nowhere.

"But we're not going to a hospital." Ivan calmly explained, pivoting to open the door. He climbed from the drivers seat and moved to the back of the car, opening the rear door and with a firm grip took hold of his 'guests' arm.

"Come on," he laughed. "Do you want to eat or not? We've got a long trip so if you need to go to the restroom or buy some water this is your last chance."

With steady strength Toris was gently pulled from the backseat – but the uncoordinated movement caused Adler to fall to the floor – a sharp wheezing gasp issuing forth from him that turned into a series of disturbing hacking coughs.

"Don't worry, he won't go anywhere." Ivan cheerily reminded him as he slammed the rear door shut and led his guest through the crusted snow and into the stale warmth of the station. They walked the small aisles, and Ivan chatted with the clerk, an old woman who regarded the darkened stains on his jacket with fearful glances when Ivan wasn't looking. And Toris for his part tried to keep his eyes on the vehicle, as if by simply having the shining black car in his sight he could avoid any calamity that may come to pass. But again and again he was pulled away by Ivan's enthusiasm and eventually he consented to 'ask' for a bottle of soda and a bit of food he didn't really want.

Ivan paid for gas and their snacks and the two returned to fill the tank, with Toris taking lead – much to his regret.

For the back door was open. A bloody trail led away into the darkened boughs of the forest. He felt like he wanted to cry – scenario's of pain and torment swirled behind his clenched shut eyes as he waited for Ivan to turn the corner and he trembled with fearful anticipation.

"What are you waiting for Litva? Unless you've grown fond of the cold-...ah."

Ivan stared a moment at the scene before him, then handed both groceries and wallet to Toris who numbly took them with only a sharp jump of surprise and a look of deep confusion. Then Ivan dug out his keys as well and pressed them onto the pile of his belongings now in Toris' arms, finally placing his gently folded scarf on top of the whole heap. Ivan opened the drivers door, reached in for his pipe and emerging again waved at Toris.

"Put that away and fill the tank. If you want anything else from the store you can get it now. I'll be back in a moment."

Then, with coat pulled around his tall muscular form he trudged back into the forest, pipe anchored firmly to his shoulder; footprints leading away without even once crossing or obscuring the trail he followed

When at last he was out of sight, and only the falling snow made noise Toris sank to the snow covered road and sat there for a long while staring out into the blank wilderness into which the other two had disappeared.

* * *

They had their, 'long talk'. It was an odd feeling as the three nations conversed through the bomb-resistant glass. Gilberts appearance alone threw Feliks off his balance, for his part he looked like a wayward freshman in college instead of the centuries old country from the north- earthbound form of a nations existence. His uniform had been beyond repair; the old wool unable to recover from the strain of wear after so many decades of storage – having gone from a wooden chest to a combat zone it could no longer go back. So he had traded it in for more modern garb that had been hastily grabbed from his bedroom in Berlin and rushed to the Vault by tight-lipped government agents. From a silvery field a golden bird cooed happily as his owners brother and current rival communicated with him through the rooms speaker. Ludwig had turned the hall lights after his brother had made a snide remark about interrogations and partial nudity – it hadn't made sense at the time and never would and by three hours later it was completely forgotten.

For now Gilbert stood with head against the glass, all humor and hue drained from his face. "I see. So where did you find him?"

"Our army picked him up no far from where we ran into Russia. The soldiers couldn't understand him at first, he didn't speak Polish and our troops aren't exactly taught Swedish as part of their basic training."

Gilbert closed his eyes and focused on his breath while his two watchers stood silent and still. "That's Gjord. He's my 'second'. I'm glad it's you who found him and not that Klaus bastard. But that leaves only Adler.."

Hanging in air the phrase sounded forbidding.

"I need some time to think guys."

"Of course." Ludwig agreed quickly, before any arguments could be raised. "Use the call button if you need me Gilbert." He reminded his brother as he turned the hall lights back off, motioning Feliks toward the door. The Pole only refused a moment before turning to leave.

"Yeah." Came Gilberts weary response as the young man walked back to his couch, hunched over like an old man. For his part Feliks felt unfulfilled, there was so much he wanted – needed to say that quite honestly he knew he wouldn't have the courage to even utter without that clear, armageddon-proof barrier between them. But even he knew that to push Gilbert right now would only sour what goodwill there might yet be between them. So he held his tongue and followed his host back through the long white hall and up a series of steps to once again move back out into the world.

Coming from the dark, closed in bunker Feliks felt as if he were re-emerging from a high-tech purgatory, re-released into the world of the living. The wind in the courtyard tousled his hair, rippling golden in the winters breath – much like Ludwigs, much to the Germans dismay as he uselessly tried to smooth the tossed locks back down again. He muttered a complaint at the wind and gave up trying to fix his hair so long as they were outside.

Ludwig was preoccupied, so he didn't notice emerald eyes tracing over the strong lines of his jaw as Feliks studied his neighbours face. Deep in Feliks' mind an image lurked out of view – like a hazy dream dreamt long ago and since then long forgotten.

But his stomach was talking and he really didn't care to hear anything else.

"Like, let's get some food. I'm totally famished from playing tag with you guys. And I could totally use a spa – do you have on on property?"

"A spa?" Ludwig questioned with raised eyebrow. "No."

Feliks muttered a soft curse. He thought he saw a soft smile.

"Let's get you back to the hotel. This weeks conference won't stop for our personal issues."

Feliks scowled, then groaned aloud – tearing at his long hair.

"Like no freaking way! Aw man! I, like, totally don't have time for all this drama! AGGG~"

The Pole complained bitterly all the way to the hotel. His pony offered what comfort it could and after they ate and raided the hotels sauna the two bedded down in their respective rooms. Soon enough in the warmth of a safe bed far from harm Feliks drifted off into a deep sleep – but just as the swirling land of dreams sank in that hazy memory flitted through the depths of his mind, just beyond sight.

* * *

They had ridden all night and into the next day, traversing mile upon mile of open plain. But now they stood at the mountains edge. The plains rose up into the forested peaks to the west of the lands they knew day was done, the horses tired, and so Feliks and Toris decided to bed down for the night. They built a campfire in the growing darkness and pulled out their provisions for a meal. After stating their welcomes and toasting the spirits that had protected them in the day as well as the ones they asked to protect them through the night they decided to take their shifts. Feliks was exhausted and fell asleep even before they decided the order; so the moon was high in the sky when Toris, finally having enough of guard duty, woke him and kicked him out of his furs.

"Come on...I have to sleep too." The Lithuanian muttered.

"Of course. I haven't had sleep enough, though it is no concern of yours I gather."

"The moon is at Apex, Feliks. And it was you who took to your furs before the duties were agreed upon."

Grumpily, the Pole had to admit that it was only fair that Toris should have his turn at crawling into bed. So he kicked off his sleeping furs and blankets, stretched dramatically in a failed attempt to garner sympathy and then began his watch for the remainder of the night.

But beer has it's own side effects and soon he stepped out of the light of the burning campfire and into the more 'private' darkness of the woods.

Mumbling and bumping through the night, he kept glancing back at the fire.

Surely in woods this thick there would be wolves, and he didn't feel like being a midnight snack. The world was a wild and dangerous place – what with Vikings on one end and Rome on the other. Then there were those other ones near the river; some Kiev? Kiev was that right?

Feliks shrugged it off. He had to go, regardless of the night or the other tribes or even the biting cold that had crept in since sunset.

But at last he came to a good enough spot and took one last look around.

But it was then that the cloud obscured moon was revealed, it's pale blue light spreading among the world.

And up a bit on the hill, silhouetted against the full silver orb was a man.

He stood with one foot on a fallen tree. Clad in furs and heavy wool, a sword at his side and good leather on his feet. Long blonde hair covered his shoulders, shining in the pale light of the moon. But even in the dark Feliks could see his eyes with an eerie blue sheen to them. No mortal stood there.

Feliks froze. He hadn't brought his sword with him – he'd expected at most to find a wolf or a man; not a nation.

They stood, locked in each others sights.

KRAAAAA!

Feliks jumped at the sound behind him and far too close of a crows hoarse call. He glanced only a second at the offending bird but in that moment the stranger had vanished.

"Ah...like a phantom in the night...some sort of devilry is afoot and it bodes ill...Lithuania should not sleep alone in a place like this – I need to return."

Feliks made as quickly for the campfire's light as he could. He thought he heard the distant howling of wolves behind him, growing ever closer.

And then he was back at the fire, with Toris snoring noisily in the bedding. Finding his sword Feliks for once in a long time took a serious watch. But Toris must have sensed something because he woke blearily from his sleep.

"You are armed and awake. Has something happened?" Toris asked.

"Something indeed. You will never believe what I saw in these woods – a nation walks them! One of our own kind."

Toris sat up. "Then the stories are true then, though I had hoped it would not be so."

"Stories?"

"Of a nation of men to the west. Men who live among the forests – the source of the raiders."

At this Feliks made a displeased sound. "Barbarians!? The source of all those two legged wolves that raid our homes! That is their land? Then I want no part of that! In the morn' we will head East and away from this accursed place. And why did you not tell me of this nation before."

Toris stared at his companion.

"Oft have I told you of it Poland. Though, what is there to tell? As no one has seen Germania – excepting your own self."

"Germania..." Feliks mused, his head beginning to hurt.

He closed his eyes, shutting out the light. But he could see that man in his memory – tall and imposing. And icy blue eyes that seemed to glow.

And from the darkness a familiarly Russian voice echoed faintly.

_I suspect that Germania may not be pleased..._

A French voice lilted through his head.

_outsider: 'Germania.'_

And his own voice responded.

_"You're telling me that Germany is not Germany's name."_

Suddenly in the waking world of the twenty-first century Feliks stared at the ceiling of his hotel room. Then he threw off the covers.

There was a mystery to solve.


	21. Rubicon I

Feliks stared at the wall.

_Where do I start? Who do I turn to? France? Italy? Hungary? Austria?_

He frowned into the relentless darkness, unable to make up his mind. Out of all the people who knew 'Germany' – was that even his original name or a pseudonym, he didn't know anymore – the people closest to him were people that Feliks wanted to spend the least time with. Austria and Prussia. Austria could have been anywhere, but Prussia was close enough at hand.

_But I can't see him without Germany knowing and taking me down there himself. _He countered.

It was hopeless. He only had one solution. Grumbling, Feliks flicked on his work laptop, grabbed a package of pocky and started to do a little 'research'. By the time he'd finished the sun had begun to peek over the skyline of Berlin, casting it's warming glow over the world. Despite winters grip the day was already looking promisingly warm. From the balcony Feliks watched the world turn, thoughts spinning in his head.

_France said that he was part of a set of brothers. There was him and this other kid. Germania watched over both of them 'till France was snatched by Rome. Germania raised the other kid. But Germania disappeared around the same time that Rome did. So what came after Rome then, time-wise? That would be...Holy Rome? That little kid? But...I know he looks like Germany but are they really the same? No way that little brat was as old as France – he was way too young to be Germany at that time. So what the hell happened to Germany when Holy Rome was around? Is he Holy Rome or someone else entirely? That doesn't make sense though, that pipsqueak kid should have been about France or mines size by the end of it all but he didn't change one bit – despite being hundreds of years old. Huh...but when Germany showed up he was about the right age – but I didn't see him at all for those hundreds of years? Like, what the hell happened back then..._

Growling with frustration Feliks determined that if anyone could sort it all out it would be the wine-loving 'big brother' of western Europe. Keeping that in mind as much as he wanted to get to the bottom of this tale of intrigue he still had two rouge armies invading his land.

"After the meeting, I'll totes have to talk with France again..."

* * *

The trail led into the deep forests, Ivan following the crimson path as it jaggedly dodged between trees and over boulders, winding itself into the growing darkness of night.

It wasn't normal. It wasn't right. This human and his seemingly endless endurance. It was as if he were living on pure will alone. But will can only take you so far, everything has a breaking point beyond which it cannot pass without destroying itself. Ivan was certain that here in the cold, with the snow swirling around in the approaching darkness that Adler would reach that end. And in the wind was an ominous groan; deep and threatening. A whispering breath that chilled the nation to the bone. He had to find his little lost bird and bring him back in one unfrozen piece.

Father winter would turn him into a crystal statue if he found him.

Ivan stepped faster through the piling drifts, searching for someone that did not want to be found. The first trap caught him completely off guard. His feet slipped out from under him and he had thrown himself sideways in order to avoid falling into a deep pit.

_He didn't have time to dig that. He must have found it as he went...clever. _

But no matter how clever his patience was being tested and as far as Ivan could tell it was a test he was failing. And with each trap, each ruse he felt his anger burning hotter.

Then he saw the flapping of an old coat and lunged forward. Adler tried to swing only to have the arm caught in air.

"You-" Ivan hissed, violet eyes cold and unforgiving as steel. "You have come to the end of my pleasantness. Even a bit more trouble from you and you can give up any hope of remaining in this world."

Alder glared back, defiance in his face that only angered the Russian more.

"Do not continue this foolishness." Ivan spoke lowly with a terrible gruffness that convinced his once-again recaptured prisoner of his complete seriousness in the matter.

A burst of frozen air hit them. The forest was silent. No birds, no wind, not the creaking of snow burdened trees. Their breath was the only sound.

Ivan held still and quiet, eyes staring into the darkness. Adler, weak and weezing as he was focused his attention in the same direction – both having completely disregarded the others presense for just a moment. Something wicked was coming toward them, icy prickles racing along their skin. And there was a tinkling like small glass bells. The trees became lighter and began to sparkle and crackle as they were sealed unforgivingly in a solid layer of glacial ice; ice that crept ever closer as the forest froze.

And like a breath from the abyss, a ghostly sigh in the arctic wind came a voice.

_"...Россия..."_

Russia moved, he didn't think about saving Adler's life as he threw him away from the on-rushing wind. Adler couldn't understand why the world was spinning or how he'd ended up at the bottom of a slope on his back, watching helplessly as a blast of arctic snow and ice raced overhead — engulfing the tops of the trees above and locking them in ice prisons. He could scarcely hear the sound clashing metal, pipe against sword as he lay shaking in the cold unable to move or feel anything other than the relentless pain. Pain from his recent fall, from his wounded side, from cracked ribs and sick lungs. Pain in his head from lack of sleep, from too much battle, from despair and hopelessness.

So he didn't really register that he was standing, moving, trudging back up the slope. It was all just a bad dream that wasn't happening in this world anymore — a world he could no longer feel at all. There was a black haze around the edges of his tunnel vision and a numbness in his nearly destroyed body.

Ivan fought with all his strength, not letting up for an instant. Life and death hung by a thread every time he clashed with the General. He'd wanted to get home, inside, before this happened. But the helmed and bearded foe continued his assault, the sword inches from cutting through flesh and bone. A tattered uniform whipped in the harsh wind. The steel pipe was starting to break apart. It wasn't meant for this — it wasn't even really a weapon. In the best of circumstances he would have a hard time fending off the master of winter with his own sword, but with a pipe — impossible.

The ghostly form dodged to the side again and again. Ivan fearlessly cut him off each time and they clashed, the sound of metal echoing through the dark forest.

_He keeps trying to flank around me. It isn't working — if he comes in for a direct attack I can't hold him back with this flimsy thing, so why is he hesitating? _

Ivan tried to stare into the cold dead eyes, his heart seizing up when he realized that those pale glacial orbs weren't even on him. The General charged, ramming into the solid nation who didn't have time to recover and instead felt himself pushed back and with another strike sent stumbling to the side. In a whirl of ice and snow the phantom was past him.

"Run! Get out of here!"

Adler couldn't move. There was no time.

Russia dove, feeling the weight in his arms as he sheltered the small and frail human from the elements.

The sword hovered in air, just a fraction of an inch above his pale blonde locks. Snowflakes drifted down around them as gently as blossoms falling in spring as General Winter stood just as towering and immobile as a great grey mountain before them.

"Идите."

"Нет." Ivan responded with an emphatic shake of his head, clutching the man closer.

The figure breathed ice and whispered something so soft that Ivan could hardly tell what he had said. Then the General did the unthinkable — he took a step back, slowly walking away from the nation and the human before him. As he did his uniform rustled like wind in snow covered trees, and amid the blinding snow Ivan's eyes landed on a thin horizontal slash in the fabric.

_I didn't think I had hit him, I suppose a pipe is a good weapon after all. But how could it cut?_

After the General had faded into frigid mist the nation looked down at the rebel lying unconscious in his arms.

"You are very lucky, human, that your death gives me more trouble than your life."

With a disgusted grimace he shifted the man to make him easier to carry back to the car. Ivan was already dreading the long walk back through the thick snow and the dark and loathed the prospect of his coat being once again covered in blood. It was so difficult to wash out properly; though he reminded himself that the cold and snow would help keep it from drying. If Toris was careful he could do it without too much hassle.

Toris, who was still waiting for him by the car — alone and unguarded.

Stifling a curse he lifted the man to his shoulder and actually said a curse as something sharp jammed him in the side. He glared at the mans sleeping face.

_He's out, so it was not on purpose. _

Cautiously he looked for the pointy object and soon found it clutched so tightly in Adlers hands that the nation realized he couldn't pry it loose without breaking something.

_How..so he had a knife the whole time? Not surprising, he is a fighting man after all. _

But the image of General Winter — fading back into the darkness in the swirling snow with a slash across his chest sprung instantly to mind and Ivan stood, staring dumbly down at the clutched blade.

_I thought it was strange that a round pipe could cut through cloth. _

He closed his eyes, trying to remember.

He had jumped as soon as he had seen where the General was running and threw himself in between him and the human he was carrying now. Adler had raised his hand — Ivan thought it was just a flinch.

_No. There was movement before that too. _

Ivans mind ran backwards. When the General had reached that spot he had struck, there had been a sharp sound and then he raised his sword over his head to cut down the man. That was when the Russian had jumped into the fray.

General Winter struck first, hit something other than Adler.

The blade was halved. A second look confirmed that it was cut very neatly in two near the point as if it had come in contact with something far stronger and sharper than itself.

"The Generals Sword." Ivan tensed, removing the man from his shoulder to regard him more carefully.

Lightly, he brushed a strand of hair from the mans face.

Then cradling him he continued back to the car; the look on his face tense and frighteningly stern as the wheels in his head began to turn.

* * *

Ludwig took his place behind the wheel. He didn't want to talk about where he'd been for the last hour and sincerely hoped that the man climbing into the back seat didn't ask. He normally wasn't late for his appointments, especially not an important one. Feliks didn't question anything. He was lost in his own muddled thoughts. The last few days had been an absolute whirlwind – the last week especially so. He didn't want to think about anything, the past, the future, and definitely not the present.

And Ludwig found himself in complete agreement. So in a bid to steer the subject away from delicate matters he asked a very simple question that had been on his mind since the last war had ended.

"Do you mind if I ask about something."

"Like, go for it." Feliks shrugged, grateful for a distraction.

"Why...I mean...what is your reasoning for wearing your particular choice of clothes."

"...you mean why do I dress like a girl."

Ludwig avoided the mans eyes in the rear-view mirror, very pointedly keeping his eyes even more on the road than normal. He felt relief when Feliks laughed from the backseat.

"No worries dude. It's like, totally a legit question." He responded with a girlish flip of the hair. "What would you think if I said it's because my legs are totally cute in tights?"

"That's your reason? Hm. I suppose that's legitimate."

"So you admit I got some cute gams?"

They nearly plowed into the car ahead. The driver flustered, now looking right at his passenger through the mirror. "That's not – please be serious for one moment! You know what I meant!"

"Serious huh?" Feliks repeated as his laugh slowly quieted and he began to think over the question a little more. "Do you really want to know? Why I dress like a girl?"

Ludwig sighed. "Do I ask anything I do not want to know the answer to?"

Feliks gave a quick laugh. "Nope. I guess you never have."

There was a pause, the only sound the traffic outside the car.

"Have you ever seen a pretty girl on the street? Have you seen how people treat them? They could walk up to a total stranger and get the time of day. For any question, any reason they can strike up a conversation and people will talk along with them – a stranger they don't know. Pretty girls have a remarkable ability to make friends with almost anyone. And a lot of people hesitate before saying or doing anything to hurt a pretty girl. And if someone does it's only because they're a total scumbag villain."

Feliks gazed out of the tinted window. "If you're a pretty guy, you're weird or weak. Not worth giving the time of day or spending any thought on. And no one goes out of their way to protect a guy – we're always expected to protect ourselves; even when we're not strong enough to. We're told to 'man up' and deal with everything. But pretty girls spend their lives being protected and helped by people they don't even know, making friends as they just go through life. People go out of their way to help them without realizing they're doing it. And sure, some people get jealous of pretty girls, or way too protective of them. But others will stand up for them to try and balance it all out."

After this he paused, smoothing his skirt over nicely shaved legs and took a moment to eye his daintily painted nails.

"I guess I dress this way because being a guy sucks. As a nation I have to be strong for my people. And far too often I have to do it on my own. Other nations have tried to beat me up and take what was mine just because they could – without any thought to how I felt about it. I've been dragged away as a prisoner, tortured and almost killed; by far too many nations to think about. It's become so routine I'm not even surprised when someone stabs me in the back anymore. But when I go out with my cute little heels, with my makeup and skirts and nice nails and pretty hair it's like the world is mine – no one wants to hurt me or see me hurt. Everyone just wants to make me happy. And...I can pretend for just a little while that that's how it always is – even when it's not."

There was a long silence as Ludwig mulled over the answer. He honestly hadn't been expecting such a heartfelt outpouring – he'd hoped to keep the conversation light!

Feliks smiled. "So, now that I've answered a totally serious question for you you gotta answer one for me!"

"I agreed to no such thing!"

"Don't be, like, a total killjoy. Just do it! Come on - I won't ask you anything really embarrassing like how much do you 'like' Italy. Though you could totally answer that one if you wanted to."

Feliks added the last line with a sing-song voice hinting at a schoolgirl that knows all about another classmates 'secret' crush. And he found it immensely satisfying when Ludwigs face went red.

"Why does everyone...no. We're just friends."

"Okay."

"I mean it."

"Uh-huh hon. So let me think up a good question for you since I already know the answer to that one."

There was a groan from the driver.

Feliks snapped his fingers. "Got it."

"And?"

The Pole gave a soft sigh, his face growing so serious that Ludwig was afraid he'd ask a loaded question; one that might start a screaming match in the middle of the street. He suddenly had a horrible vision of him and Feliks arguing like a disgruntled couple until someone called the police.

_Please don't let him ask anything controversial...like how I feel about the war or what I plan to do about the situation in Greece..._

"Could you tell me..."

For a moment Feliks had a thought, the first question that popped into his head.

_...are you really, truly Him..._

But his courage failed him and he sputtered out the second question that had plagued him.

"Why don't you ever smile?"

"What? I smile."

"When?"

"Occasionally when I'm out doing something enjoyable I'm certain I smile."

Feliks raised an eyebrow. "You're certain you smile? I've never seen it."

"You aren't normally there when I'm having fun."

"So who do you go out with?"

"Japan, or Italy. Sometimes Canada."

"Canada? Really?"

"Well he and his brother can make for an interesting time in any case. Of course there's also Brazil and Argentina."

"Uh huh. So don't you spend time hanging out with Russia then?"

"Not if I can help it."

The nation in the backseat sat up a bit. "But I thought you two were getting all close. You totally seemed to be working on your relationship."

Ludwig sighed. "A business partnership and a friendship are completely different. Yes, we are beginning to mend our relationship but it's not so close as to spend our free time together. I'm not entirely comfortable around him – and I have the feeling he's the same way."

Feliks nodded. "I guess you're right, it is a little too soon to be BFF's."

Ludwig mutely agreed, not really understanding what a 'BFF' was. He had trouble with Polands slang on a good day.

"So you still never answered me."

A bit flustered, Ludwig tried to not think about the question at hand. But he knew Feliks would keep asking until he got something, anything out of him. So he took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"You know, you're not the first person to ask me that. In fact it seems more often than not people assume that I don't know how to have fun, or smile, or laugh. And frankly I don't understand why."

He stared up at the red light, wanting it to turn green so he could get to their destination that much faster and avoid all of these questions. Questions were uncomforatble; they could always be answered wrong and then there was the fallout to deal with.

"Maybe it's because you're stiff and mechanical most days. You're totally like some wind-up soldier." Feliks bit his lip the second his mind caught up with his mouth. He really hadn't wanted to go anywhere near anthing to to with wars because it was too dicey.

_But then, it's almost impossible to avoid isn't it? Like a mountain in your backyard you can't help but bring it up even if you don't try. _

At first Ludwig was quiet so long that Feliks figured that he wasn't going to speak to him again for a good long while. But then after a few minutes had gone by the driver spoke again, his voice soft but reflectful.

"I guess...I am that way sometimes. I've spent so many decades at war I don't think I remember what true peace is like. And it's not just...the war...it's all of them. Before the great wars there were the Napoleon wars, the Succession wars. Wars everywhere; it was all about fighting. And I was the crossroads. If my bosses weren't involved in starting it they would jump in half-way through. If they didn't jump in they stood to gain or lose something from the outcome and would try to tip the odds in their favor. And I had so many Kings, Princes, or politicians pulling in different directions that I didn't know which way to turn. I finally get my head on straight and everything goes to hell. I've figured out that if the system is working then it's best not to do anything to upset it."

He sighed. "You don't rock a steady boat. You don't upset the cart by fooling around on it. You do what you have to, what you're told to and leave everything to those in charge even if it doesn't seem like it makes sense. Because fighting so many heads out to bite one another is just too tiring."

After this he paused only a moment before going on, looking back at Feliks through the mirror.

"I guess that 'soldier' part of me is still working. But I'm not fighting with guns or bombs – I'm going to battle in the boardroom, in the conference hall. And it's still just as serious as it ever was. Because I've seen what poverty does to my people and I want them to be wealthy. I've seen what oppression does and I want them to be free. It's all I ever really think about. And they're worth it – I believe that even if no one else does, or if others resent them for how far they've come. I can hardly believe it myself how much they've turned things around for themselves in so short a time. And I want it to stay peaceful, to stay calm so that they don't have to suffer like the generations before them.

I guess...I don't smile because I'm trying so hard to make sure that my people can...I'm not really used to doing things just for myself anymore. It's a habit of mine of sorts."

Feliks gave a slow smile. "Then I guess that's something we'll have to work on right? I can't have you totally bringing down my good vibes. Not cool."

"I'll try to keep it in mind." Ludwig replied, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"See, better already."

Slowly, the car rolled to a stop. Deep down Feliks was glad for the traffic that had made the going rather slow, he felt their talk had been very cathartic. Well, he felt better anyway. He hoped his neighbour did too.

True to his role as chauffeur Ludwig diligently made sure every window was rolled up, that the lights were off and that the car was parked properly before turning off the engine. Feliks would have laughed at the over-seriousness of it all but he'd had a car roll off on him before, so he wasn't one to talk.

Exiting, Ludwig took a few steps to the passenger door to let Feliks out, the nation swinging his legs toward the door in 'proper' fashion with a grin on his face as he pulled his thick dark green winter coat closer.

"Like, thanks! You should totally drive me around more often. Ludwig rolled his eyes but a smile slipped through. Stepping out, Feliks took a moment to rearrange his skirts – making sure everything was lying straight.

His head cracked, he felt the impact in the back of his skull as he fell back, the roof of the car suddenly above him again. In the time it took him to hit the seat he realized he'd been pushed backwards rather ungracefully into the car.

"Hey!" He yelled, the sound muffled by the slamming door. "What the hell are-"

A sound like hail and sharp whistles echoed through the car as it rocked back. Feliks curled in the seat, knees pulled to his chest as he covered his head with both arms, ducking as bullets ripped through the vehicle. He felt puffs of air race past and once felt a sting in his hip. Then all at once it was silent excepting a muted chorus of yells outside. Slowly, the Pole uncovered his head. Due to some smart engineering the glass hadn't shattered, but it was clearly dotted with numerous large holes that matched ones in the other window. Even the door bore marks, though not as many as the glass above the steel.

"Holy hell! What was that!" Feliks yelled, sitting all the way up. Outside the tinted glass he couldn't see much. Slowly he reached for the handle, wondering if it was safe to open the door. But outside he heard yells, the words 'police!' being yelled over and over by different voices along with the sound of feet running back and forth. The gunfire; however, had stopped. Slowly, Feliks dislodged the door and opened it just enough to step outside.

There was pandemonium out there, people yelling and crying. Pointing and calling on phones for the police. He couldn't tell if others were injured though he thought he saw one or two prone forms – one of which eventually rose to it's feet, stunned, to stagger away from the area. Moving just a bit, his foot tapped something and a wave of cold dread came over his entire being. His eyes moved to the right, around the door and couldn't stop staring at the other nation that lay quietly in the street.

Feliks' mind halted, suddenly and jarringly. His mind couldn't handle it, couldn't explain it. Ludwig had to be playing to keep up appearances. A human would fall but not a nation. A regular weapon shouldn't even break the skin of a healthy nation – only a country in it's weakest state could be injured by a human weapon. But there was no mistaking that Ludwig was slowly bleeding into the roadway - his body still as stone. Feliks moved to the fallen nations side, holding his breath as he fell to his knees. Ludwig was entirely on his side, one arm under him, the other draped limply to the front.

"Hey...we got to get out of here. We don't have time, you gotta get up." Feliks shook Ludwigs shoulder, but there was no response.

"Oh come on..." The man whispered. "I've shot you way more times and you always got up before. You can handle this! So get up already and stop jerking around!"

Panic was starting to set in as he shook the other mans shoulder and suddenly he saw it – the wide holes that cut through him, larger than any bullet he'd seen.

_Wait...that glass was supposed to be bullet-proof. That's why it didn't shatter like it normally would have. The doors must have been armor plated too – this is a car used for high level government officials. Those bullets shouldn't have gone through one, let alone both doors!_

"Ludwig?"

The nations eyes were still just slightly open, as if he'd been completely caught unawares.

_He can't be...no. _

In years gone by he had actually hoped for a moment like this, conspired for one and it had never even come close to happening. And now, when there was light at the end of that dark tunnel – when some sort of normalcy with Germany seemed so close at hand – it was suddenly ripped away.

Like a horrific nightmare words echoed mockingly in his head.

"_Feliks someone was trying to kill you!"_

_"Kill me?" Wondered Feliks, loosening his grip._

_"Intelligence intercepted a plot for an assassination attempt on you and several other officials while you were here in Germany."_

An assassination...

Feliks tried to lift Ludwig from the ground but only managed to raise his torso, the other nations head rolled limply onto his shoulder. There was blood in the blonde hair, running towards his half-closed eyes. Guilt and sadness crept into his body in waves pulling at his mind.

_If he dies it's my fault – they were trying to kill me, they would never hurt Germany on purpose!_

Sitting in the cold street, listening to the approaching wail of sirens, feeling the warmth of the bloodied nation in his arms Feliks couldn't help it. He felt hot tears on his cheeks and his vision blurred before he he regain control. and all he could see were images in his mind.

Germany helping Austria pick out gifts for Hungary, Hungary flagging down her former brother in law at a meeting. Italy clinging to Germany's arm so bad he almost tripped. Germany yelling at America to stop dancing on the conference table. Bringing in gingerbread close to Christmas, awkwardly wearing a set of bunny ears that Lichtenstein made him at Prussia's request.

So many memories; so many years of being neighbours – of fighting and making up and fighting again...

"Don't you dare...don't die on me. Come on! GET UP!"

_Don't die because of me..._

* * *

_**Authors note:**  
_

Wow. I don't write in forever and then unleash the floodgates of WTF. I'm one of 'those' authors as my roommate puts it. ^.^; Part two should be up and running soon! Thank You for reading!


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